


torn and tattered and crowned

by littleleotas



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, OC Shepard, Polyamory, Ruthless (Mass Effect), i put canon in a blender with some bananas and made you this smoothie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-11 23:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15982325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleleotas/pseuds/littleleotas
Summary: Commander Nadezhda 'Dez' Shepard was once a ruthless pursuer of vengeance, happy to use any means to achieve her ends. The guilt over one call makes her rethink her tactics and begin to understand justice in a different light.





	1. shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It’s been a while. I was working on a short story for a zine which should be out soon (eee), and then I’ve been working on my novel, but I’ve been feeling bad about not writing more fic recently. So I’m starting a complete chronicle of my girl, Nadezhda ‘Dez’ Shepard, from childhood up through ME3 and possibly beyond. I won’t make any promises on how often this updates, but I intend to switch back and forth between this and the novel for a while.
> 
> [Here’s a Spotify playlist for Dez!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FTX3LfcGIsAPo2mQgm17L)
> 
> Work title from “Make Light” by Passion Pit.
> 
> I swear there used to be a way to add Chapter 1 notes separately from entire fic notes but I GUESS NOT so here's these:
> 
> The timeline for this is “time is an illusion don’t look into it.”
> 
> Chapter title is from “Make Light” by Passion Pit.
> 
> Chapter warnings: bullying, violence

_but darkness falls like shattered pieces_  
_dangling, shimmering,_  
_torn and tattered and crowned_  
\- “make light” passion pit 

-

Dez held a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright Mindoir sunlight. Her sister, Tash, had gone out to play an hour ago and hadn’t returned, and their mother had sent her out to find her and bring her home for dinner. She squinted, looking down the street. Shimmering heat waves distorted the air low to the ground. The small pink dot that was Tash in the distance bobbed up and down, and Dez heard her sister’s whining cry.

Sweat dripped down Dez’s face and stung her eyes as she ran down the street toward Tash. Dez’s long ponytail swished around her, stray hairs sticking to her neck. She approached Tash, the girl too small for her age in a bright pink dress contrasting with her dark pigtails, and saw two boys Dez’s own height holding Tash’s precious teddy bear over her head. They had been laughing cruelly—until they realised who was staring them down.

“Dez,” Tash sniffled, looking up at her sister with teary eyes. “They won’t give Pooka back.”

Dez scowled and crossed her arms over her stomach, standing with her legs apart. “They’re going to.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna make us?” The boy attempted a sneer, but he was too familiar with Nadezhda Shepard for his bravado to be anything more than a flimsy veneer.

Dez knew that, and she grinned with a wicked smugness. “You have to ask?”

Before either of the boys could respond, Dez flung herself at them like a fury, a whirlwind of limbs deftly knocking both boys to the ground. She bent back the arm of the boy holding Pooka and his shoulder made a sickening crunch. Dez’s expression was mild and self-satisfied as she completely ignored the boys’ howls of pain, picking Pooka up off the ground and handing him to Tash, who stared wide-eyed at the bullies.

“That wasn’t nice, Dez,” Tash whispered.

Dez laughed and hugged her from the side. “They weren’t nice first.”

-

The long walk back to their house took Dez even longer keeping pace with Tash, who dragged her feet all the way home, but Tash squeezed Dez’s hand and continued sniffling, and Dez couldn’t find the strength to let her go. The sun was beginning to set behind them, filling the sky with fiery streaks as they turned down the last street toward home.

“Um…Dez?” Tash said quietly.

Dez looked up with weary eyes only to realise the fire wasn’t only in the sky.

The girls’ grips on each other tightened as Dez whirled around and ran, pulling Tash behind her. She ran between houses, through yards, away from the neighbourhood. The pounding of her heart drowned out the screams behind them.

Dez ran without thinking ahead, without a place in mind to hide—the only thought shouting through her head was _’run, run,’_ and she did. The fields outside their neighbourhood seemed endless and empty, but Dez kept running. She tried not to look at the ships filling the fiery skies, some of which were beginning to land in the fields around them.

Her eye caught an old lab building and she raced toward it. The dilapidated lock still appeared to have power, and Dez freed one hand to override it.

“Hurry, Dez,” Tash pleaded, tugging at Dez’s shirt.

Dez heard a ship approaching. She tried to blink the dripping sweat out of her eyes, focusing on the lock with shaking fingers. Her gaze flicked to the door, still displaying a red denial of access, and back to the lock. It sounded another override failure. Dez huffed in annoyance and ripped the panel off the frame. She pulled at wires with as much care as her increasingly shaky hand could muster. She slipped her hand from Tash’s and stretched her fingers, aching from being held so tightly. The sweat coating her hand didn’t make the job any easier with two hands, but she kept working.

The ship behind them landed just as Dez crossed the last wire and the door’s display turned green. She hurled herself and Tash through the door, pushing Tash to the dirt-covered floor as she turned around to lock the door behind them. Tash crawled underneath a desk, still whimpering.

Dez locked the door and hesitated. The sounds of more ships descending around them and voices speaking a language she couldn’t understand were muffled through the door. She crouched and quietly made her way to Tash’s desk, crawling underneath into the small space and wrapping her arms around her little sister.

“Quiet,” Dez whispered.

Tash nodded, with one last sniffle. She turned to bury her face in Dez’s shirt, which immediately absorbed her tears. Dez stroked Tash’s hair, fighting back her own tears.

A bang at the door made them both jump. Tash squeaked in horror and Dez shushed her. She inhaled slowly and held her breath, listening intently. Sparks from incorrectly crossed wires crackled. She knew it wouldn’t hold. She squeezed Tash tighter as she heard the door gently swish open.

Harsh, gravelly sounds came from the intruder’s mouth. Dez sat frozen in horror. Several voices conversed, but she couldn’t understand a word. Tash’s fingers dug into her neck painfully. She heard the intruder take a step into the room—then a gunshot, and a heavy thud as the intruder hit the floor.

Chaotic sounds of battle rose in volume outside: gunshots, screams, orders yelled in a language she didn’t understand, and some she did. Her heart rose as she heard human voices through the fray, but she remained under the desk, squeezing Tash.

In what seemed like a second, the sounds died down. Dez suddenly realised she was still holding her breath and let it out, panting. Tash’s grip slowly released, but neither of them made any further attempts to move.

The sound of footsteps into the room made Dez hold her breath again.

“Hello?” said a human voice.

Dez swallowed and slowly crawled out, while Tash remained hidden. She rose to her feet, staying next to the desk. She gave the soldier a once-over. He was probably trustworthy. He was human, in any case. But nothing, not even the ground below her feet, felt sure in that moment. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Private O’Brien. I’m with the Alliance, we’re here to rescue you.”


	2. no place for promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from “Gun” by CHVRCHES.
> 
> Chapter warnings: violence, death

Dez tapped the side of her glass anxiously as she looked around the Presidium in every direction, twisting and turning in her seat at a restaurant table. She glanced at the clock over the bar and sighed heavily. As she turned back toward the elevator, she saw the doors open and Tash come bouncing out of the elevator with a skip in her step, waving emphatically when she saw Dez. She grinned and stood up from the table, holding her arms out to hug her sister.

“You Colonial Affairs people have no sense of time,” Dez said, gently scolding as she hugged Tash.

Tash laughed brightly. “Well, excuse me for lacking your military precision.” She smiled as they broke apart. “Have you ordered?”

“Mhm,” Dez nodded as they sat down at the table. “Got you pot roast.”

“Aww, my favourite!”

Dez smiled, raising her hands palms-up in a gesture somewhere between a shrug and a presentation. “What are big sisters for?”

Tash’s bright smile dulled slightly as her gaze rested on Dez’s face. She was quiet for a moment. “Your scar looks better.”

Dez shrugged before taking a sip of water. “It’s fine.”

Tash chewed on her lower lip. “Okay.”

Dez rolled her eyes. “Tash, it’s been two years. It’s not like I’m doing the Skyllian Blitz every day, I’m not gonna have a new one of these every time you see me,” she gestured to the long scar running down from her left eyebrow across her nose, ending on the side of her nose where it met her right cheek.

Tash kept her gaze on the table, rolling her napkin between her fingers and shredding it slightly. “I just wish you weren’t in danger all the time, that’s all.”

The memory of Tash’s fingers digging into her neck rose to Dez’s mind, and she choked back a sudden surge of sadness. “I only do it because I have someone to protect,” she said softly.

Tash snorted a laugh. “That’s not true. You love it, I know you do. And—” Tash raised a hand to quiet Dez’s interjection. “You’re allowed to love it. And I’m allowed to worry.” She smiled ruefully. “You’re all I’ve got now.”

Dez reached across the table and grasped Tash’s hand. Tash squeezed back.

A waiter walked up to the table and placed a plate of pot roast in front of Dez and a plate of fried chicken in front of Tash. The girls smiled and switched plates with a laugh after he left.

“So,” Dez said. “How’s work?”

Tash nodded her head side to side as she chewed. “’s’alright. Trying to get some agricultural grants approved. You?”

“Nothing I can talk about.”

Tash shot Dez a disapproving look and Dez shook her head. “Nothing to worry about, either, though I know you will. I just can’t talk about it. Especially on the Citadel.”

Tash nodded, chewing in silence for a long moment. She finally spoke, her voice in a whisper that reminded Dez uncomfortably of her hushed terror on Mindoir. “Be careful, Dez.”

-

Dez’s first thought upon realising blood had mingled with the sweat dripping down her face under her helmet was that Tash would be so angry with her. She immediately compartmentalised the thought, returning to the task at hand: revenge. Officially, she was the hand of the Alliance wreaking revenge on the batarians for the Skyllian Blitz. Unofficially, she was avenging Mindoir and her parents. Every batarian skewered on her bayonet brought a smile to her face. Every scream was etched on her memory, replacing the screams of her friends and family as they met their ends at the hands of batarian slavers. It felt right that she had been chosen for this mission, like the completion of a circle.

She looked up from dispatching one batarian soldier to see another charging her, and she held out her bayonet. The soldier stopped just short, and they shared an identical menacing grin.

“Tell me you were at Mindoir,” Dez said, her tone as sharp as her blade.

The batarian’s grin faded into a frown of confusion. “Mindoir?”

“Batarian raid on a human colony twelve years ago,” she replied without missing a beat.

“Like we remember all of them,” he sneered.

With an angry scream, Dez lunged forward, running her bayonet through the batarian. He laughed, beginning to cough up blood. “Think you’re avenging your family or some shit?”

She thrust the bayonet deeper, closing the distance between their faces. “I’m gonna enjoy watching this,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

He wheezed, his breaths coming shallower by the moment. “I’ll enjoy watching my family avenge me—” He paused in a coughing fit, and continued his sentence, “—on what’s left of yours.”

Fury rose in Dez’s chest and her face flushed as she pulled the bayonet out of the batarian and shot him between his top pair of eyes. Stepping over him as he fell limp to the ground, she pressed forward.

He had meant her, she reminded herself. He couldn’t have known about Tash. But even the vaguest threat against Tash filled her with an angry heat that scorched her throat dry. Her parents had never done anything against the batarians; they hadn’t known what a batarian _was_ before the day they died. Dez saw herself completing the circle of violence that the batarians had started unprovoked; what if the batarian had been right, and this wasn’t the end? Would she continue to suffer? Would blameless Tash?

“Lieutenant!”

She looked ahead to see her squad standing in a line ahead of her, all of them turned back toward her. She jogged up to meet them, and looked ahead across the battlefield. A line of batarians stood opposite them.

She raised her gun and squared her shoulders. “Weapons ready—”

“Lieutenant,” Private Birch said, holding his gun but not raising it. “They’re surrendering, ma’am.”

She looked at the batarians again. They set their guns on the ground, straightening up with raised arms. She felt the intense gazes of her squad on her, awaiting her orders. She swallowed hard as she avoided their gazes, staring straight ahead. All she could see was Tash on the end of a batarian bayonet.

Her voice was deep, almost foreign to herself when she spoke again. “Open fire.”

No one moved. “Shepard?” one of them asked quietly.

“Open fire!” she screamed.


	3. out of the frying pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: grief, trauma, death.

Dez didn’t remember leaving Torfan. The days following might as well have been weeks, months, or years. She awoke and still felt asleep. She slept and could not rest. The world seemed blurry, like an out-of-focus photograph, or a TV screen filled with buzzing static. People spoke to her, but she couldn’t find the strength in her to listen. She heard, however. Picked up a word or two of the hushed conversations no one wanted her to hear. _Vicious. Sadistic. Ruthless. Butcher._

One morning when she awoke, the sun was shining through the window next to her bed. She realised she couldn’t remember the last time she saw sunlight.

_Mindoir. Sun in her eyes, looking for Tash._

_Tash._

She wondered where Tash was. She wondered where _she_ was. She sat up and looked around the room. A hospital room, all sterile white and crisp linen. The room reeked of antiseptic, the smell burning her nose as she inhaled. She moved her arm and winced, looking down to see a needle in it. She sank back against the bed. A clear vase full of pink and yellow tulips sat on the table across the room from her bed. Tash must have been; those were her favourite flowers.

The door opened and a nurse popped her head in. “Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re up.”

Dez pushed herself up in the bed gingerly as the nurse entered the room, picking up a clipboard from the end of the bed.

“Is Tash here?” Dez asked. Her voice sounded as though her throat was full of rocks. It felt somewhat like it, too.

“Tash…?” the nurse frowned, flipping through papers on the clipboard.

“Natalia. My sister.”

“Oh, yes. She was here this morning.” The nurse didn’t look up from the papers.

Dez swallowed guiltily as the nurse walked around the bed, fiddling with machines and writing down numbers from display screens. Aftermath was a new concept for her; not that she had ever escaped consequences for her actions, but more that the consequences had always been, in one way or another, what she had wanted. She had wanted to be feared, so that no one would ever mess with her or her loved ones again. She had wanted chaos, so that she might rise from the ashes. But at Torfan—hadn’t she done what was right? The batarians were the bad guys, the slavers, the pirates who killed and tortured and desecrated. Wasn’t it right that she should destroy them as they had destroyed so many others?

But it was different now. Serving justice came with a body count on both sides, and she was the one left to blame. She was not unused to being vilified—she was unused to it feeling less like an affirmation of her righteousness than an accusation of brutality and cruelty. The hatred of her enemies she wore proudly as a badge of honour; the hatred of her friends was unbearable.

The nurse seemed indifferent to Dez, merely completing her duties silently and without obvious thought. Dez lowered her gaze, willing herself to take up less space. She didn’t deserve the nurse’s time and she was sure the nurse knew it. The nurse reached behind her and fluffed her pillows.

“Thank you,” Dez half-whispered. The meekness in her voice sounded so uncharacteristic to herself. She couldn’t muster up any powerful emotion to feel about that fact, however.

The nurse picked up the control for the television from the table in the corner—Tash must have been watching it, Dez thought—and placed it wordlessly on Dez’s bedside table before unceremoniously exiting the room. Dez looked at it blankly for a moment before deciding she knew what the news would say, and those words were already rattling around her head enough without reinforcing them. She rolled onto her side, facing away from the window, and fell asleep.

She opened her eyes, rubbing away the haze that blurred her vision. The room was still bright, but she was sure it was a full day later, rather than the same day. Her throat burned with a sore itch, like a healing scab filling her neck. She swallowed hard and winced at the pain. She sat up, still blinking away the sleepy fog, when she realised someone was sitting in the corner.

“Good morning, Commander.”

Captain Anderson, wearing crisp, clean dress blues, rose from the chair, perfunctorily smoothing his clothes as he stood. His kind smile was the most reassuring thing she’d seen in days, and had her eyes not prickled with dryness, she was sure she would’ve cried.

“Did I miss something?” she said in a rasping, hoarse voice.

“You did. You’ve been promoted.”

He extended a hand and she took it, his firm grip knocking the bones of her uncharacteristically weak fingers together.

“I—why?”

Anderson chuckled. Dez failed to see what was funny. “What do you mean, ‘why?’ You’re a damn good soldier. And I’ve got a job for you.”

“Sir,” she croaked. Her voice was slowly returning, but with a choked waver she couldn’t quite shake. “I had—I mean, I was going to take a leave—”

Anderson’s eyebrows twitched and a crease settled into his forehead as he sat on the side of her bed. “Shepard,” he said, lowering his voice. “You did what you had to do. You got the job done. That’s all we asked of you.”

“You asked me to protect humanity.” It felt like progress, somehow, that she could feel tears forming in her eyes. “We are meant to be the defence. And my soldiers, I killed them all-“ She squinted her eyes tightly shut as her voice broke into a coughing sob.

“Every soldier in the Alliance knows the cost of battle,” Anderson said. The tone in his voice was his own unique blend of professionalism and compassion. He never would say anything overtly emotional, but even in merely stating the terms of their job, he managed to make it a kind reassurance. “You know it. I know it. They knew it. Your job now isn’t to lie here and feel sorry for yourself. Your job now is to make their sacrifice worth it.”

She wiped a tear off her cheek, clearing her throat and nodding. She rolled her shoulders back, raising her head high. Re-assuming the mantle of a soldier. Commander, now. She sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“There you are.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Anderson’s mouth.

She broke into a teary smile herself. “So,” she said, inclining her head. “You said you have a job for me?”

He nodded, shifting to sit up straighter. “Let me tell you about the Normandy.”


	4. printed upon your stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m assuming you’re familiar with the canon happenings, I’m just filling in the gaps for now (will be changing things significantly later but that’s a problem for future!me and future!you).
> 
> Chapter title is from "Cavalry Captain" by The Decemberists.

Dez would have quit when Nihlus died. She would have quit right on the spot, had it not been for Anderson. Anderson with his concerned paternal look when she mentioned the visions from the beacon, Anderson with that heavy sigh when she tried to play it off as nothing, Anderson with his insistence that she speak to the Council before making any rash decisions. But she couldn’t shake the dread, the absolute conviction that death followed her like a curse. Once she was a brilliant promising soldier, true; now she was a harbinger of destruction and pain and desolation.

She didn’t want to speak to anyone, partly for fear that the plague she carried would infect them, too, but the Council was above such petty superstitions and inexplicably demanded her presence. She marched out of the elevator, flanked by Williams and Alenko, heading for the Council with the guarded hope that they’d take the matter off her shoulders entirely. As she approached the foot of the stairs, she saw two turians arguing at the top, and she slowed her step as she eavesdropped.

The one in blue was all wild emotion, pleading as much with his hands as his voice. “Saren’s hiding something. Give me more time, stall them!”

The turian in black remained impassive. “Stall the Council? Don’t be ridiculous. Your investigation is over, Garrus.”

The turian in black walked away, and the other turned and locked eyes with Dez. His gaze hit her like a cold wave, nearly shocking the breath out of her with its intensity. He was furious, his eyes like blue flames. She didn’t know what the feeling looked like on her own face, but she was sure she recognised the emotion all too well.

“Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian. I was the C-Sec officer in charge of the investigation into Saren.” He turned to face her, inclining his head briefly in a show of respect. His movement was rigid, almost mechanical. He was holding himself back, as though the rage he still felt over the argument threatened to burst through his skin. He was attempting to act calm—for her sake, she imagined—and he didn’t seem to have any idea that she could see right through him.

She raised an eyebrow. “Come across anything I should know about?”

Garrus turned his head aside, clenching his jaw. Somehow he seemed to go dark, not just in his eyes. “Saren’s a Spectre. Most of his activity is classified. But I know he’s up to something. Like you humans say, I can feel it in my gut.”

Dez let out a heavy breath. She liked the sound of this Spectre programme less and less the more she heard about it. A free pass to do whatever you pleased, and classified files to cover up anything less than savoury you might deem necessary. It seemed the sort of thing she’d have jumped at the chance to do a year ago. Now, she wondered if Torfan would’ve ended up in a classified Spectre file if she’d been a Spectre at the time. A ruthless murder motivated by xenophobia, a reckless order that cost everyone in her command their lives. Wasn’t it on the same level as murdering a colleague in cold blood? Whose job was it to make the moral equivalencies there? Did everything just get swept under the same Spectre rug?

“I’m sure you’re right. But without proof…” she trailed off.

“You’re going to speak to the Council now? Maybe they’ll listen to you.”

She scoffed at his earnestness, casting her gaze to the floor. “I gather you aren’t familiar with my reputation.”

“What, that you’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done?”

The fire in his eyes blazed brighter as she looked up at him again. It almost pained her to see that spark she recognised so well. He was right, and the justice system wasn’t going to back him up—but Dez might. Nadezhda Shepard, the fearless protector, the last bastion of hope when all other avenues had failed. She believed the myth she propagated about herself, the legendary status Tash bestowed upon her, once.

“That’s not quite how I’d put it,” she said quietly.

Garrus crossed his arms over his torso, fixing his gaze on her. The rigidness in his posture had eased, but he did not appear unguarded. She could almost hear the gears in his head turning. “Well. For what it’s worth, I trust you.”

She laughed throatily. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you want justice to prevail. That’s all I need to know.”

She stared at him for a long moment before she realised she was doing it. They were strangers, but she felt like she was speaking to an old friend. All he knew about her was what he’d heard on the news, and she knew even less about him. But she saw in him the core of herself: that desire for justice, no matter the cost. It frightened her, but reassured her, somehow, as well. She knew what both of them could be driven to do, but she knew what they could potentially accomplish, too. “It was nice to meet you, Garrus.”

He inclined his head again. “Likewise. I hope the Council listens to you.”

-

They didn’t, of course. Councillor Udina and Captain Anderson asked her to investigate further, and she looked wearily at Anderson when they did. She should have expected that leave of absence never to materialise, but the further she got into this mess, the more exhausted and ready to give up she felt. Still, as they headed to the med clinic, Dez found herself somewhat excited at the prospect of seeing Garrus again. She got the feeling they would work well together.

They opened the door to the med clinic. Garrus was crouched behind a low wall, moving with surprising fluidity for his size. He caught Dez’s eye and nodded sharply, almost imperceptibly, before settling at the corner of the wall.

“If Garrus comes around, keep your mouth shut, or—”

A man with a gun looked up from speaking to the doctor to see Dez still standing in the doorway. He grabbed the doctor by the neck, pointing his gun at Dez. “Who are you?”

She pointed her gun at him. “Let her go.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Garrus stood up and shot the man holding the doctor. The doctor shrieked as Garrus advanced around the corner. Dez looked at him in shock, but the other thugs demanded more immediate attention. The doctor crawled into hiding as Dez’s team dispatched the remaining hitmen.

After her last shot found its mark, Dez turned on her heel before the last man hit the floor and marched back to Garrus, who was languidly holstering his gun.

“Perfect timing, Shepard!” he said with annoying excitement. “You gave me a clear shot at that bastard.”

“A clear shot?” Dez fumed. “Think you’ll find the doctor was in your way.”

The doctor stood up from her hiding place, dusting herself off as she walked over to join them. “I am not hurt, Commander.”

Garrus gestured to the doctor. “See? She’s fine.”

“And what if she wasn’t? What if you hit her?”

His adrenaline rush seemed to dissipate immediately. His shoulders hunched and he looked down, flaring his mandibles. “There wasn’t time, I just—I didn’t think. I’m sorry, Dr. Michel.”

The doctor patted his shoulder. “I owe you my life, Garrus. All of you,” she said, looking around at Dez and her team.

Dez closed her eyes and nodded, leaving her anger behind and turning back to work. Dr. Michel told them about the quarian, her information potentially linking Saren to the geth, and the danger the quarian could be in from Fist and his gang.

“I suppose it’s time we paid Fist a visit, then,” Dez said.

Garrus took a halting breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “This is your show, Shepard, but I want to bring Saren down as much as you do. Can I come with you?”

She eyed him warily. “If you’re coming with me, I need you to follow my orders.”

“You have my word,” he replied in a hushed voice. “Nothing like this will happen again.”

Dez was grateful for how easy he was to read. His sincerity was evident in his voice, and despite having known him for all of half a day, she felt she could trust him. He was so like her—at least, the person she used to be. And knowing herself, she knew he had his heart in the right place; she had once been a reckless knight errant, too. Hopefully, the person she was now could serve as enough of an example to him to keep him from hurting anyone like she had.


	5. through the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and thus chapter soundtrack is from "Follow You" by CHVRCHES!

_”Logged: the commanding officer is aboard. XO Pressly stands relieved.”_

The gentle automated voice sounded as Dez and her newly doubled crew walked onboard. Dez turned toward the cockpit as Kaidan, Ashley, Garrus, Wrex, and Tali walked further into the ship. Joker turned his seat, exaggeratedly looking past Shepard and counting on his fingers.

“Am I losing my mind, or did you leave with three people and come back with a bunch of aliens?”

“You’re losing your mind. They’re all an illusion,” Dez said, unable to hold back a smirk.

“Thought so. Well,” he said with a dramatic sigh, “Hope you’ll let me keep my job even though I’m crazy.”

She laughed, placing her hands on her hips. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I can fire you.”

“I think you can do anything you damn well please, _Spectre._ ” He punctuated the last word with a cheeky grin and a finger gun.

Dez rolled her eyes. She understood this was a great and hard-won honour, but she felt swept away in events much bigger than herself. This was Udina’s great victory, not her own, and all the responsibility of using this unwanted power now fell squarely on her own shoulders. The Council had seemed reluctant to make the ‘Butcher of Torfan’ a Spectre, and she knew she now had a lot to prove. She’d always been a great proponent of the adage ‘actions speak louder than words,’ and all her words now couldn’t erase her actions. She had to do something right for a change. And preferably, she’d be able to do it soon.

“Okay, okay,” Joker said, raising his hands in surrender as he turned his seat back to its standard position. “I see it’s a sore spot.”

Grateful for the opportunity to drop the subject without explanation, she turned and walked back toward the CIC. “Talk to you later, Joker,” she said over her shoulder.

She gave the order to head to Therum before dragging herself down to Anderson’s—her quarters. She almost wished she could camp in the Mako instead; taking Anderson’s Spectre position as well as his ship would’ve been enough, but now she had to take his quarters as well. She flopped face-first onto the bed. Her heavy limbs splayed out and she sighed, turning her head to the side so she could breathe. The desk next to the bed had a framed photo on it that Anderson must have had moved up from her locker: a smug-looking teenaged Dez, one hand on her hip, the other around Tash’s shoulders, and charmingly enthusiastic Tash with her arms clasped tightly around Dez’s waist, in front of their serenely calm parents and their house on Mindoir. Everyone in the photo squinted in the sunshine, so bright it washed out all the colours. Without moving from her spot on the bed, she could see in her mind’s eye the inscription on the back of the photo: written in her mother’s tidy script with her treasured black fountain pen, “Nadia, Tasha, Aleksandr, Maria, 2169.” She rolled over, facing away from the desk and clutched the cold, thin duvet with clawing hands.

-

Being in the heat in her armour was bad enough, but in her armour inside the Mako on lava-soaked Therum felt like a special kind of hell. As if that wasn’t enough, she had to _drive_ the damn Mako. She was sure at some point someone should have asked her if she’d ever learned to drive before putting her behind the wheel, but it was a bit late to be ruminating on that. Each bump sent them flying and Ashley grunted, “Oof,” each time they crashed back onto the ground.

It would have been a relief to get out of the rover, but the steep road to the ruins was crawling with geth. Garrus ran ahead with reckless abandon, and Dez wanted to be angry with him and call him back, but he was damn good. His aim was impeccable, his timing almost musical in its strict rhythm, like a dependable drumbeat backbone. She wouldn’t tell him she was impressed, though. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

They walked slowly through the ruins, taking out the few geth that remained in their way. Dez looked around, wondering how anyone could find this interesting. They had said the doctor was here studying something, but it was beyond Dez to figure out what could possibly be of interest here. Unless the doctor was really into ancient, barely-functioning lifts, for some reason.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

A high-pitched voice laced with panic came from behind a blue containment shield (the most interesting thing Dez had seen all day). She approached and saw the asari doctor, held frozen floating above the ground.

“Can you hear me out there?” the doctor continued. “I’m trapped, I need help!”

“You must be Liara T’Soni,” Dez said. “I’m Commander Shepard.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Liara said, her eyes darting everywhere but at Dez. “Please, can you get me out of here?”

Dez scrutinised the shield. Her eyes followed various consoles and wires, leading her to turn around toward the vast rock caverns behind them. “We’ll be right back,” she said, without turning back to Liara.

Dez, Ashley, and Garrus shot their way down toward the mining laser, clearing several waves of geth without breaking a sweat. Dez stared at the laser’s control panel, as if it would eventually tell her the code itself. Her fingers traced the buttons on the override, holding positions before pressing buttons. Each button she pressed turned out to be correct on the first try, and the laser cleared the rubble, allowing Dez and her team to crawl through to the elevator beneath Liara’s prison.

“Impressive,” Garrus murmured as they took the elevator up.

Dez shrugged. “I’m either very lucky or very smart.” She smirked, looking over her shoulder at Garrus standing behind her. “Maybe both.”

His mandibles flared. “Definitely both,” he replied.

Ashley snorted, but said nothing.

They had hardly freed Liara and embarked on their escape from the collapsing ruins before they were stopped by a krogan and another pack of geth. Garrus drew his gun immediately, but Dez held up a hand to tell him to hold.

“Hand over the doctor,” the krogan said. The geth surrounding him pointed their guns at the team. Liara looked around, frowning.

“We don’t want trouble. Just let us pass,” Dez said evenly.

“Saren wants the doctor, Saren gets the doctor,” the krogan countered.

“I will not help Saren!” Liara said, all but stamping her foot in elegant outrage.

Dez shrugged, gesturing to Liara. “Sounds like she isn’t going with you. Perhaps you should let us through now.”

The krogan captain roared in wordless response, and the geth opened fire. Dez rolled behind a pillar, firing around the corner. Ashley grabbed Liara and pushed her behind herself, backing up as she fired.

“Keep the doctor safe!” Dez yelled.

Liara’s eyes widened as Ashley yelled back, “I know!” and shoved her behind the pillar opposite Dez. Ashley and Dez knocked the geth out one after another, and as the last hunter fell, Dez stepped aside and crouched, waiting for her gun to cool down.

A blunt force knocked the air out of her as she fell forward underneath the weight. She looked up, too shocked to be scared, and saw Garrus above her, pushing her out of the way as he turned back, emptying his gun into the krogan charging her. He seemed still as a statue, not even breathing as he calmly dispatched the enemy threatening her. The krogan captain collapsed mere inches from them, and Garrus fired a few more times before lowering his gun with a heavy sigh.

She swallowed hard—a task made harder by the weight on top of her. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly.

“Any time,” Garrus said, catching her eye in his peripheral vision through the visor. He held her gaze for a long moment before realising he was still pinning her, and quickly averted his eyes as he stood up.

“We’ve gotta move,” Ashley said, stepping out from behind the pillar across the room and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Commander, let’s go!” Joker yelled into her ear over the comm as the Normandy descended into view.

The team raced out of the collapsing ruins into the ship, halting practically in a heap just inside the airlock. The decontamination protocol ran to the melody of various groans and grunts as they disentangled themselves. Dez rolled her shoulders back, stretching her neck from side to side. Liara daintily brushed dust off the hem of her tunic before folding her hands in front of her and watching the door. Ashley shook her legs out one after the other, and Liara eyed the dust falling off her armour with a nearly imperceptible quirk of her eyebrow. Garrus’s hands rested on his cowl as he stretched his head backwards, baring his neck, and Dez noticed for the first time how tall he was. He always seemed to curl in on himself a little, and she’d thought of them as equally tall as herself. She could see he was easily a foot taller than her, and she wasn’t a small woman. He returned to his normal stance and cocked his head slightly as he noticed her looking at him. She quickly shifted her attention toward the door.

The door opened, and Dez followed her team out of the airlock. She paused in the hallway to see Joker turning his chair toward her, and she turned to face him, too.

“So you just pick up strays now,” he said, gesturing to Liara, who scowled over her shoulder as she walked away. “We’re a glorified dog-catcher van.”

Dez folded her arms over her torso as she bit back a smile. “Joker, you knew we came here to pick up Liara.”

Joker shrugged. “Yeah, but who am I to let the truth stand in the way of a good joke?”

“As you were, Flight Lieutenant,” Dez said with a chuckle as she turned away.

-

The debrief meeting surprised Dez. No one wanted to trust Liara, and no one shied away from saying so to her face. And then Liara practically fainting—well, the mission wasn’t off to the start for which she’d hoped. She had been filled with self-doubt before; that much wasn’t new. But now she wondered what she’d done to make anyone think she could pull this off. She had experience as a _leader,_ but not in making people a team. No one had ever told her those were different qualities. Or perhaps they had, and she’d just never been interested in the latter.

After the meeting, she made her usual rounds. In the cargo bay, she overheard giggles from Ashley’s station as she approached.

“And what about that Kaidan? He’s cute! Bye, sis!” the voices over the comm chirped.

“Uh, sorry about that, Commander,” Ashley said. It was too dark to see if she was blushing, but it was almost audible in her voice.

“Ah, siblings,” Dez said with a fond smile. “I get it, don’t worry.”

“You’ve got siblings?” asked Ashley.

“A little sister. Tash.”

Ashley scoffed. “One? That’s not even trying. I’ve got three.”

“I didn’t have much say in it.” Dez quirked an eyebrow. “Three’s quite a lot.”

“Yeah,” Ashley said, glancing over her shoulder at the computer. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “They’re a pain sometimes. Wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

“Yeah.” Dez was quiet for a moment. “You talk to them often?”

Ashley nodded. “Almost every day. And messages when I can’t call. We’re a military family, we grew up having to make the long-distance communication thing work. What about you? If—that’s not prying, ma’am.”

Dez shook her head, casting her gaze down. “Nah. I haven’t spoken to Tash in…” She counted in her head. The passage of time felt more unreal than usual. Days seemed like weeks, weeks seemed like months. “Weeks, now. Longest we’ve been without talking.”

Ashley tilted her head down, angling herself into Dez’s vision. “What happened?”

Dez shrugged and lifted her head. “Nothing happened. Or—well. That’s not true. Nothing between us. I just…if I talk to Tash about it, that makes it real.”

“I think whatever it is is real either way, Skipper.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Dez exhaled, putting a palm to her forehead. “I just can’t let her down. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Ash took a small step closer to Dez, lowering her voice. “But if you don’t mind me saying, I think not hearing from you in this long and not knowing why is more of a let-down than just talking to her.”

“I’m sure she knows why,” Dez said darkly.

Ash gave her a knowing look.

“And your point stands,” sighed Dez.

“You know what,” Ashley said, settling into a hip and resting a hand on it. “I’d like to meet this Tash Shepard who’s so intimidating to her great big sister, the Spectre and Commander.”

Dez laughed. The genuine smile on her face almost hurt. “I don’t think Tash has ever been called intimidating before. She’d like that.”

Ash smiled and pointed at Dez. “Tell her when you message her.”

“I will.”

-

To: Natalia Shepard  
From: Cmdr. Nadezhda Shepard

Tash,

I’m sorry. I know that isn’t big enough for the apology I owe you. But I am sorry.

I know you’ll have seen the news. I don’t know what you think, or what you think of me. I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I kind of hate me, too.

I’ll call you soon and we can talk about it, if you want. Or if you don’t want to, just know that I love you.

Thank you for the flowers. Knowing you’d been in that hospital room was the only reason I didn’t rip my IV out and run. If you came to visit me, I must not have fucked it up entirely.

Love,  
Dez

 

To: Cmdr. Nadezhda Shepard  
From: Natalia Shepard

Dez,

You’re an idiot. I love you. And more importantly, I know you. We’ll talk when you’re ready, but please stop beating yourself up. You’re a good person.

Remember that thing Mum used to say to us every night at bedtime?

I love you, I’ll always love you, there’s nothing you could ever do to make me not love you.

Love, really, I mean it,  
Tash


	6. ghost in your eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is again from "Make Light" by Passion Pit. Just for kicks, a bonus song for this chapter is "This Is What It Feels Like" by Banks.
> 
> Depending on your perspective, you may direct either your adulation or ire at the block for the med bay scene, which is entirely 100% their fault.
> 
> Massive thanks to Bug in particular for the help/encouragement with this beast of a chapter ♥

Dez’s head throbbed dully as she left her quarters. She gently pressed at her temple as she walked into the mess hall and opened the fridge. The light inside made her wince. She picked up a beer and closed the door, turning around to lean her back on it as she opened the bottle and took a swig. She pulled a face; she didn’t normally drink beer, but she was hardly going to stock vodka tonic ingredients on a battleship. In a pinch, beer would do.

“Rough night?”

She jumped and looked up to see Garrus sitting at the table in the mess. “Garrus,” she said, her breath returning to normal. “I didn’t see you.”

He straightened his back, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “I appreciate the Alliance’s attempts to cut costs but a lightbulb or two wouldn’t go amiss.”

She laughed as she sat down across from him, casually leaning her head into the palm of one hand.

“You alright?” He lowered his voice, though no one else was around.

She nodded, sipping her beer and suppressing the disgust. “Just had a talk with my sister. First time since Torfan.”

“Ah.” Garrus shifted in his seat and fidgeted his fingers. “How did it go?”

Dez tilted her head to the side in thought, picking at the label on the beer bottle. “It was okay, I think. As okay as any conversation about that is going to go.”

“She couldn’t have been angry with you,” he said, frowning.

A rueful smile flitted across her face. “She probably should be, but she isn’t.”

Garrus leaned forward, fixing her with an intense gaze. She almost felt she should lean back from such a forceful look. “She knows you’re a good person. You wouldn’t do something without a reason.”

“I had a reason, but my reason was wrong. And what I did was wrong.” She tore a corner off the label, balling the paper up between her fingers and flicking it away from her.

“You did it to protect your people-“

“I did it for revenge.” She looked up, meeting Garrus’s gaze with an equally intense look of her own. “It didn’t solve anything, it didn’t save anyone. The people I killed weren’t the people I was mad at. And even if they had been, it wouldn’t have brought—” She stopped and took a shaking breath. “I killed innocent people. And I let my people die. And I can make better decisions from now on, but that won’t bring them back.”

“Sometimes innocent people have to die for the greater good. You can’t avoid casualties every time. Sometimes the collateral is unavoidable.”

“No,” she shook her head and set her jaw. “No. If we start thinking that way, they’ve already won.”

They sat in silence for a moment. She closed her eyes as she pressed her hand against her head. “Sorry for dumping the contents of my brain on you. It’s no wonder I’ve had this headache for days.”

His gaze lost its edge as his eyes widened slightly and his mandibles flared. “Should you see Dr. Chakwas?”

She scoffed, taking a swig of her beer. “What could she say? ‘Be less stressed?’”

Garrus shifted in his seat, still fixing Dez with that anxious focus, but said nothing.

Dez sighed and closed her eyes, escaping his gaze. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make my problems yours.”

Garrus looked at his hands. “If there’s anything I can do, I will.”

She smirked, lifting her beer to her lips. “I don’t suppose turians have any ancient stress-relief remedies.”

He returned her smirk. “Actually.”

She lowered the bottle and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t strike me as a self-care kind of people.”

He shrugged. “We’re more effective soldiers if we’re not preoccupied with tension.”

“Fair enough.” She placed the bottle on the table and leaned back, folding her arms over her torso. “Hit me.”

“Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress. I remember right before one mission; we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. The recon scout and I had been at each other’s throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring.”

Dez leaned forward, leaning her chin into her hand. “I assume you took her down gently.”

Garrus looked to the side, avoiding Shepard’s eyes. “Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, she had flexibility. It was brutal. After nine rounds, the judges called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room. We…ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility.” Garrus turned his head back toward Shepard, his chin lowered and his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “More than one way to work off stress, I guess.”

Dez leaned back, taking a swig of her beer as she processed. “I get it. I never feel less stressed than right after an orgasm.” She looked back up at Garrus, but he had averted his gaze again. “Hey.” She hesitated. “If this is too much, tell me to shut up and I’ll never bring it up again, but…what if we…worked off stress? Together?”

His mandibles flicked twice rapidly. He continued to avoid looking at her. “I…didn’t think you’d feel like sparring, Commander.”

“I don’t.”

“Ah. I mean. Oh.”

“It’s okay, we can drop-“

“No, I mean…yeah, that would. Yeah. That would be…good.”

She placed her bottle on the table as she leaned in, reaching her arms flat across the table. “I really don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Garrus.”

He finally lifted his head to look back at her. “You don’t make me uncomfortable,” he said. His back was rigid, and he looked up at her with an odd lightness in his eyes. “Nervous, maybe, but not uncomfortable.”

She looked around the still-empty mess hall, confirming they were alone before jerking her head back toward her quarters and humming an interrogatory noise.

He pushed himself up and she followed suit, picking up her beer before heading back to her room. She set the bottle on the desk in the corner and turned around to see the doors sliding closed behind Garrus.

“So…” he said, trailing off. He twisted the fingers of one hand with the other.

“So,” she said brightly, chuckling at herself. “I, uh…I’ve never slept with a turian before.”

He chuckled, too, seeming somehow to both loosen up and become twitchier simultaneously. “I’ve never slept with a human, either.”

She shrugged. “We’re smart people. We’ll figure it out,” she said, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head.

Garrus made a short, surprised humming sound. He pulled his own shirt off, looking around for a moment before placing it on the end of the bed. His skin was smoother than she expected, a swirling galaxy of darker brown skin and silvery plates. Her heart beat faster as she pulled her sports bra off.

“Why are you wearing two shirts?” Garrus asked.

“I’m not,” she said, struggling her way out of the bra. “It’s-“ she sighed in relief as she wrestled the garment over her head and tossed it behind her. “-for holding these down.” She gestured to her breasts.

He tilted his head as he looked at them. “What are those for?”

“They’re-“ She squinted and stopped herself. Though she realised what they were about to do essentially amounted to a biology lesson, some facts were pertinent and some were not. “That’s not important.”

He kept looking at them, and she almost felt like covering them up again. No one had ever looked at her tits with such clinical scrutiny. “They look inconvenient.”

“Immensely.” She unbuttoned her trousers and kicked them off, gesturing to Garrus to indicate his turn.

“You’re wearing two pants, too.”

“Garrus.”

He held his hands up in surrender before taking his pants off as well. They stood, three feet apart, naked and staring at each other.

“So.” Dez said.

“I think we did that part,” Garrus said with a breathy chuckle.

“Right.” She echoed his small laugh and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked her legs up and turned to stretch them out on the bed, patting the space next to her. He climbed over, and she was struck again by how much bigger than her he was. The thought that she should probably be more scared than excited briefly passed through her mind. “Should I start?”

He nodded, looking like nothing so much as an eager puppy. The sight made her grin, and she looked down to compose herself before meeting his eyes again.

“Okay,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers. His hands were rough, but warm, nearly hot to the touch. “This is a good place to start.” She moved his hand over her breast and exhaled at the friction of his fingers over her nipple.

“I thought you said these weren’t important,” he said, running the thumb of his other hand over her other nipple and shifting his laser focus to it, repeating the movement and watching the reaction. He drew his hand back, then touched the stiffening nipple again.

“No, it’s—they are. For this. Keep doing this.”

“Okay.”

She slipped her hand away from his and he kept touching her. He pinched one nipple experimentally and she hummed. “Yes, that’s good. You could even be a little rougher.”

His breathing seemed to take on a growl as he pinched harder. She cried out softly and he let go, pulling away from her with a wide flare of his mandibles and a panicked look in his eyes. “No, that’s good,” she said.

“That’s good?”

She whispered, placing his hands back on her breasts, “I’ll tell you if I need you to stop, I promise.”

His touch was tentative as he moved his fingers across her nipples softly. She leaned her head back with a soft thud against the wall behind the bed, closing her eyes and sighing. The sensation changed and she opened her eyes with a gasp to see Garrus’s long blue tongue tracing one breast as his fingers worked at the other.

“God, you’re a fast learner,” she half-whispered. She pushed her shoulders back to move herself forward, tucking her legs beneath her as she turned to square her body against Garrus’s. She braced a hand on his shoulder. “Your turn.”

He looked up at her slightly agape and wide-eyed, his expression frozen. She cleared her throat.

“Uh,” he responded.

She laughed with an easy smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, unconvincingly.

Her smile faded, but not fully. “We can stop if you-“

“No.” He rubbed a hand over his face, screwing his eyes shut behind the momentary cover. “No, I just-“

She took his wrists in each of her hands, gently moving them to the sides. “Why don’t you just tell me if I’m on to something?”

His warm blue gaze locked onto hers as he nodded solemnly. She dropped his wrists, though he kept his hands suspended in mid-air. She settled her hands on his waist as she shifted herself further down the bed, straddling his legs. She glanced back up at his face and his head was tilted back, his eyes closed. Experimentally, she pressed her thumbs into the soft, leathery skin beneath them, making small circles. His breath caught as he inhaled, stuttering in his throat.

She smiled to herself as she kept circling her thumbs slowly with increasing pressure. Her eyes skimmed his body, watching the erratic rise and fall of his chest. She ran one hand up, over his smooth, soft skin and exploring places where it gave way to harder plates, and retraced her path back down. The plates between his legs barely parted at a seam, and her fingertips hovered at the top.

“Can I touch you here?” she asked.

“Y-yes,” Garrus breathed.

She moved herself back on his legs, releasing her grip on his waist and allowing her fingers to fall down his hip. She moved her hand down between his legs, pressing her finger upward against the small gap between the plates. His hips tensed and jerked up into her hand. His skin was warm and damp as she pressed her hand against him, toying at the seam between the plates with her fingers. The gap widened and she slipped a finger inside, brushing the tip of his cock. It was smoother than the rest of his skin, almost like polished marble, and coated in something slick and slightly tacky.

“Careful,” Garrus whispered, and she withdrew her hand.

She started to apologise, but was left speechless by the swift motion of his plates opening and his cock emerging. They remained in their positions, panting quietly: Garrus having slid into a recline, eyes closed, and Dez straddling him, balanced on his thighs. She shifted her weight, sitting up taller and stroking her clit with a slow, steady rhythm. Garrus opened his eyes at the movement and watched her for a moment before replacing her hand with his. His finger lost its place and she repositioned it, pressing her hips forward into his touch. She set the pace, increasing gradually, and moving Garrus’s hand when he lost track. She felt the rising heat in her become sweat on her forehead as her breath grew shallow.

She threw her weight forward, bracing both hands on the wall behind the bed. She looked down at Garrus inquisitively.

He blinked. “What?” he managed to wheeze between panting breaths.

“Ready?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

She huffed a laugh. “You’re something else, Garrus.”

“Something wh-“

He stopped talking as she positioned herself over his cock, spreading herself and pushing down onto him. _”Fuck,”_ she whispered, shifting her knees further apart to lower herself further. She closed her eyes and lifted her head, as if letting a hooded cloak full of all her stress and anger and disappointment and guilt fall off. She did not think of Mindoir or Torfan or anything but the rough grind of Garrus’s plates against her inner thighs as she moved her hips in an elliptic circuit, thrusting to bring him fully inside her. His voice rumbled in wordless cries, clutching at the sheets to either side of her legs.

Her hair began to stick to the back of her neck with sweat, and she reached up to pull the ponytail through to a bun. Their steady rhythm hiccupped, and she fell slightly to the side. She laughed as Garrus jolted upward, grabbing her thighs in an attempt to right her.

“Serves me right for multitasking,” she said.

“You okay?” he asked, panting.

“Yeah, it was just too hot to have my hair down. Keep your hands there, though.” She fixed her hair up and off her neck, and re-settled herself on top of Garrus. The cool recycled air on her sweaty skin was a relief, but a short one. Garrus’s talons dug into her thighs as she moved, quickly resuming her previous beat.

Dez knew, conceptually, that she had to let go of her many anxieties, learn to be in the moment. She’d never been able to do that any other way, even when her worries were, in retrospect, unimportant and uncomplicated. She never could do anything by halves, and she had to be overwhelmed in one way or another to let any one thing go. And Garrus overwhelmed her: his plates chafed, his talons pricked, his heat burned. It was easy to take his cock inside her, like she’d done it a million times before, and they found rhythm as easily in her bed as they did on the battlefield. Each thrust built the comfortable tension and she vaguely wondered if she could just keep doing this instead of returning to the stresses of her life.

The enjoyable experience of building sensation quickly tipped toward the unbearable edge of release. She increased her speed and he matched it. She rolled her centre of gravity up through her spine, holding her shoulders back and reaching down to touch her clit.

“Do you need me to-“ Garrus started.

“No,” she said. “Keep—yes.”

He moved a hand from her thigh toward her clit.

“No, I meant—fuck, I really can’t multitask.”

Garrus froze for a second, then, with renewed determination, ran his hand up her torso and over her breast. He pulled at her nipple and she arched her back. _”Fuck,”_ she moaned, moving her other hand to brace behind herself on Garrus’s thigh. Her quick, steady rhythm slipped into erratic as her orgasm hit her, a wave of heat rising through her core and her cheeks tingling with the blood rush.

“Oh god, give me a minute,” she managed to slur as she rode out the end of the lingering sensation. She could hear the body fluids as she lifted herself off him and wondered for a moment if she should perhaps have done some research before jumping into bed with an alien. Dismissing the thought, she grabbed a water bottle from the floor, unscrewed the top, and drained half of it.

Still half-perched on Garrus’s legs, she put the bottle back on the floor and sat upright. “Okay. What do you need?”

“We could keep going like that,” he replied, his voice tight and thin.

“Oh, shit,” she said, biting her lip in a grin. “You were close, weren’t you?”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, climbing back on top of him. She braced a hand on his stomach as she pushed down and moved her hips slowly. The scrape of his plates had more of a sting than before, but the pain made her hungrier for more. She quickly resumed their previous rhythm and Garrus gripped her thighs tighter with each movement. A hot tingling sensation crept up her neck and over her jawline, and she threw her head back, moaning as she thrust.

“More, Garrus,” she said, her voice hoarse and low. With a stuttering motion, his hips rose to meet hers, off-rhythm at first but quickly falling in line with her. His fingers clawed up her thighs, closer to but not quite reaching her hips.

“Shepard,” he whispered, pressing his head back into the pillow. He came with a soft exhalation of breath as his frenetic movements stilled. It surprised her; she expected a roar, a loud cry, something more forceful from him. It was somewhat charming that he finished so quietly.

She rose off him and flopped onto the bed. Garrus held a hand to his forehead as he caught his breath. She smiled at his closed eyes and heaving chest, and rolled onto her back, parting her legs slightly and moving a finger to her clit. Her foot brushed his leg and he opened an eye, glancing over at her.

“Hey, I can-“

She waved him off. “Catch your breath,” she whispered.

He rose to his knees and she looked up at him with surprise. She stopped touching herself as he moved down the bed, settling himself between her legs. “Is this okay?” he asked, holding her gaze.

“Uh. Yeah,” she said.

His hands wrapped around her thighs as he moved his face closer to her cunt. The edges of his mandibles gently scraped against her inner thighs, and she bit down a giggle as it tickled. Her teeth quickly left her lower lip as his tongue touched her clit and she moaned before she realised she was making a sound. He softly circled it, his tongue gliding on and around the slick skin.

“Harder,” she said, and he followed the command. He pushed his tongue against her, alternating lighter and harder pressure in no discernible pattern. She pressed her knees down against the bed and lifted her hips, and Garrus responded with a hummed moan and an eager flick of his tongue. Her hips moved slightly too much, hitting Garrus’s face with more force than she’d meant to, but he didn’t seem to feel interrupted. The fingers of one hand curled in the pillowcase behind her head, and with the other she pinched her nipple as Garrus worked with increasing intensity. Her legs spasmed as she came, scraping against his shoulder plates.

“Okay, stop, stop,” she whispered, touching Garrus’s shoulder as she angled herself away from him. He lifted his head, his chin shining in the dim light, and crawled back up the bed to lie beside her.

She heaved a sigh that seemed to exhale every problem she’d had of late. It felt as though a knot in her brain had finally untied itself. Her body ached dully, and her leg began to sting, but she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this close to peaceful.

“Turians really know what they’re doing,” she said softly, rolling onto her side.

Garrus’s mandibles flared, but he didn’t turn his head, staring resolutely at the ceiling. “Hm?”

“About the stress release thing. Works like a charm.”

“Oh,” he said. He was quiet for a moment. “I did mean actual sparring, you know.”

-

Dez tapped the railing next to the podium above the galaxy map. “It’s just so much fuel to go all the way to the Citadel before Feros.”

“They’ll have fuel on Feros,” Pressly shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Dez said, folding her arms over her torso. “With the geth attack, I’m not sure we can count on anything being fully stocked there.”

“And the Alliance pays for our fuel if we go to the Citadel for it,” Joker piped in over the comm.

“Fair point,” Dez replied. She sighed, shifting her weight and wincing. “Alright. Joker, set course for the Citadel. We’ll stock up before heading to Feros.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dez groaned as she limped down from the map. “Could probably use the extra recovery time anyway,” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you alright, Commander?” asked Pressly.

“Perfectly,” she smiled pleasantly, straightening up and walking purposefully down the stairs to the med bay.

The doors slid open and she kept the smile plastered to her face as Dr. Chakwas looked up. “Hello, Commander. Something I can do for you?”

“Yes, I’m just going to…grab a few things.”

Chakwas’s eyes narrowed. “What things?”

Dez rolled her lips inward, steadfastly refusing to blink. “…things. Don’t worry, I’m fine, I’m just…going to take care of it myself.”

Chakwas’s expression remained sceptical. “Check out whatever you take on that datapad,” she said, pointing with the pen in her hand to the datapad on the table next to the first aid cabinet.

“Thanks!” Dez chirped. She opened the cabinet and grabbed a box of plasters off the shelf. She rifled through it, picking out one, then two. Cocking her head to the side as she considered, she dropped the plasters back in the box and tucked the whole box under her arm.

Chakwas cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to pry, Commander, but…Officer Vakarian came by earli-“

“Do you have any aloe?” Dez turned over her shoulder, asking too loudly.

“Second drawer.”

Dez leaned over and pulled open a lower drawer. “Ah, there it is.” She continued looking through the cabinet, picking up a few helpful-looking bottles.

“You know I have to file medical reports on Alliance personnel.”

Dez pushed aside several bottles of painkillers with her finger. “Do you really have to report on every little scrape?”

“No. Just the ones that require treatment. And _concerns for the immediate future._ ”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Dez said, situating the supplies delicately in her arms.

Chakwas sighed. She lowered her voice. “We don’t know what the complications of intercourse with tur-“

Dez slammed the cabinet doors shut. “Thanks, Doc, bye!” she shouted as she bolted from the med bay.

“You didn’t check the supplies out!” Chakwas yelled after her.

-

After picking up supplies for Feros on the Citadel, Dez returned to the ship and headed directly for the cargo bay, line-ups of gun modifications already running in her head. The elevator door opened, and she stepped toward the lockers.

“Commander.”

She stopped, startled at hearing her name in what she’d thought was an empty room. She turned around to see Garrus standing in his usual spot by the Mako.

“Could I have a word?”

She eyed him warily, taking a step toward him regardless. “Is this about the other night?”

“No, I—wanted your help with something.”

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows. She walked across the room to meet him. “What’s up?”

He finished typing something at his computer before he turned to face her. “In my C-Sec days, I investigated this salarian geneticist involved with black market trade. We traced some organs back to him. Turned out he’d been growing them inside his employees, harvesting them and selling them.”

“Ugh,” Dez clamped a hand over her mouth. “That’s horrifying.”

Garrus nodded, casting his gaze down to middle distance somewhere past her hip. “The worst part is we never caught him.”

“Why? What happened?”

His mandibles flicked and he paced as he continued speaking. “He ran. Blew his lab, grabbed some of his employees, and headed for the nearest space dock. By the time I found out, his ship was already leaving. He threatened to kill his hostages if we tried to stop him.” He stopped pacing, folding his arms across his chest. “I ordered Citadel defence to shoot him down, but C-Sec HQ countermanded my order.”

“With good reason,” Dez said. “You would’ve killed those hostages.”

“They were already dead,” he snapped. “But I could’ve prevented Dr. Saleon hurting more people.”

“There are always possibilities, Garrus,” she frowned. “That doesn’t mean you know what would’ve happened.”

“You and I both know it’s better to stop the problem before it gets worse. That’s what you did on Torfan.”

“No.” The word escaped her throat like a primal scream, rough and raw. “Don’t tell me what I did on Torfan and don’t tell me you would’ve done the same.”

His eyes flashed, the blue of them turning flamelike. “You knew those batarians would’ve hurt more people if you let them go.”

“I wasn’t _thinking_ , Garrus. I didn’t _know_ anything,” her voice shook with the rest of her, cold anger filling her veins like ice. “What I know _now_ is it matters to do the right thing the right way.”

“Well, now’s our chance to do it the right way, then,” he said, poorly hiding his bitterness. “I’ve got the transponder frequency for his new ship.”

He held out a datapad and Dez snatched it from him. “We’ll go on our way to Feros.” She didn’t wait for him to reply before she turned and marched back into the elevator, mashing the button repeatedly.

-

The ship was a living nightmare. ‘Living’ might not quite be the word. She wasn’t sure anything that attacked them there had been quite alive. Garrus didn’t say a word, but she could feel him seething about having been right about Dr. Saleon’s experiments just as much as she seethed that he still couldn’t see why he was wrong.

“All clear,” Wrex said, turning back to face Dez and Garrus.

“Let’s move,” she replied, moving past him to the front of the group and and opening the door to the bridge. Two of the rooms were empty, but when they opened the door to the third, a salarian stood calmly facing them, as if he’d been waiting for their arrival.

“Thank you, thank you for saving me from those…things,” he said. There was concern in his tone, but not in his manner. Dez narrowed her eyes.

“Commander, that’s him. That’s Dr. Saleon,” Garrus said.

“What? M-my name is Heart, Dr. Heart. Please, get me out of here,” the salarian replied.

Dez kept her eyes on the salarian. “Garrus, are you sure?”

“Positive,” Garrus growled. He leaned forward, staring down the salarian from his menacing height. “There’s no escape this time, Doctor. I’d harvest your organs first, but we don’t have the time.”

“You’re crazy,” the salarian sneered, unfazed. “He’s crazy. You can’t let him do this to me.”

“Garrus,” Dez said, holding a hand up in front of him. “We have to take him in.”

“You can’t be serious,” Garrus said. “You’re going to let him get away again?”

“I’m not letting him get away. The military will interrogate him. We need to know what happened here, how his subjects became those…things.” She looked up at Garrus, holding his unwilling, sullen gaze with her own commanding one. “You know it’s the right way to do this, Garrus.”

He set his jaw, and Dez straightened her back, preparing for a fight. But Garrus sighed, blinking slowly. “Okay. You’re right.” He turned to Saleon and growled, “You’re a very lucky salarian. You owe the commander your life.”

“Oh,” the salarian drawled sarcastically, “Thank you so very much.” He drew a gun and fired without aiming, and the shot flew several inches above Dez’s head. She returned with a quick bullet straight to the head, and the salarian fell to the ground.

Garrus stood frozen for a second. Dez looked up at him over her shoulder.

“So he dies anyway? What was the point of that?” Garrus spoke shockingly calmly. Dez didn’t buy it for a second.

“What do you think, Garrus?” She squared herself with him, hands on her hips.

“Can we fight back on the Normandy instead?” Wrex asked. “I’m hungry.”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin and glaring challengingly. “I want to hear what Garrus thinks.”

Garrus looked like nothing so much as a raging storm. The calm eye was in there, somewhere, wreathed in fury and rage dancing in his eyes and in his rapid, deep breaths. Finally, he spoke. “You weren’t going to kill him. You acted in self-defence. I get that.”

Shepard’s hands dropped to her sides as she nodded. “You can’t predict how people will act, Garrus.” There was a plea in her tone, begging him to understand. To really understand, and not just say he did. “But you can control how you respond. Your actions are the only thing under your control. And in the end, that’s what matters.”

His eyes darted as if he was searching for something in her face. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and the eye of the storm took over. The tension eased visibly, his shoulders dropping and his gaze calming like stilling waves. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Shepard.”

Wrex rolled his eyes and groaned. “Can we go back to the ship now?”

Dez smiled up at Garrus. “Yeah. I think we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Tumblr's basically kaput, if you're looking for me you can find me on Pillowfort and Twitter as littleleotas!


	7. number one with a bullet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out my drive to finish the things I start is stronger than my desire to never write fic again so here you go.
> 
> Chapter song is "Sugar We're Goin' Down" Fall Out Boy. Oh yes it is.

“You were- holding something- back,” Dez said between panting breaths, rhythmically thrusting her hips to bring Garrus’s cock fully inside her as she straddled him. “On the Fedele.”

“Was I?” he wheezed as his mandibles fluttered wide. His fingers dug into her thighs.

“You know why I- did what I did. But that- hold on.” She leaned forward and grasped his shoulder as she re-settled herself slightly further forward on his torso. His harder plates gave way to softer skin beneath her thighs, already blooming red from friction. She lined up his cock with her entrance and thrust again experimentally. “There it is,” she hummed with satisfaction. “You still think I should’ve handled it differently.”

He canted his hips up to meet her. “He wouldn’t have had the chance to shoot at you if you’d just blown up the ship.”

She thrust harder, and Garrus’s head hit the wall with a brief ‘thunk.’ “Sorry,” she said. “What if the hostages had still been alive?”

“But they weren’t.”

“Do you really need me to go over that again?” She flushed, more out of annoyance than arousal. “Here, get on top.”

She flipped onto her back and manoeuvred herself beneath Garrus, who moved much slower, like his limbs were full of cold treacle. Impatiently, she wrapped a leg around his back and pulled him close, using her hands to position his hips. “Don’t talk, just fuck me.”

He continued moving slowly, entering her with an aching languor. She moved her own hips faster, urging him to match her beat. “Harder,” she commanded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t apologising for the pace.

“Harder,” she repeated.

He obeyed, pushing himself into her so hard he forced a gasp from her. She dug her heel into his back pulling him against her again and she moaned at the exhilarating pain of his sharper edges digging into her skin. She felt the bruises forming beneath her skin with each impact and lost herself in the sensation, emptying her mind of everything but the fire in her nerves.

She ran her tongue slowly across her upper lip as numbness crept into her cheeks and her body shook, falling over the edge with Garrus right behind her. His head fell forward, resting against her shoulder for not more than a moment before he slid out of her and sat on the corner of the bed. She propped herself up slightly, the satisfying soreness throughout her body making her groan as she moved.

She spoke quietly, but firmly. “You don’t have to like me, Garrus, but I’d appreciate it if you’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“I understand,” Garrus said hoarsely. “It’s just—there was a way to do it that put you in less danger. It’s hard for me to see that as a downside.”

She frowned as she sat up fully, putting her arms behind her to push herself up. “I know what they say about me in the press, but I’m not that person.”

“I know you’re not.” He turned his head toward her, catching her eye over his shoulder. “I’m just worried—well. What if you take a risk like that again and it doesn’t pay off?”

“Then at least I know I was doing the right thing. It’s not always the same as the easy thing.”

He nodded and turned away from her again. After a moment’s silence he stood up and put his clothes on. Dez felt like she should say something more, but she couldn’t think of anything else that needed to be said. He walked to the door, hesitating for a moment and nearly glancing over his shoulder before continuing through.

-

She wondered briefly whether to take him to Feros before realising there really wasn’t anything else she could do. It was a testament to the strength of their friendship that she felt, even when they disagreed, that they understood each other better than anyone else on the ship, and she needed people she trusted to have her back on a mission. Despite everything else, she could always trust Garrus to support her.

Perhaps she had been overthinking it, as Garrus had nothing that felt particularly barbed to say as they stopped to re-open water valves and search for parts for the Feros colony. It was not the easiest way to get to Exogeni, but it was the right thing to do, to help people as they could on their way. Every time she chanced a glance at him, he was merely getting on with his job, returning her gaze with an acknowledging nod before resuming his work.

Returning from the headquarters, they reached the colony equipped with anti-Thorian gas grenades, ready to make the right way through, if not the easiest. A Thorian creeper charged the Mako as they approached the door.

“Spirits, what was that?” Garrus exclaimed as it fell and dissolved into hissing green acid.

She looked up at him with steel in her gaze. “Remember, we’re not shooting the colonists.”

“Uh, if the colonists are anything like that thing, they’re not human anymore,” said Wrex, gesturing with the end of his gun at the acid puddle.

She glared at him, then looked back at Garrus. “You know what I mean.”

Garrus nodded emphatically. “Understood, ma’am.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrex waved dismissively. “We’ll be careful.”

Dez opened the door and they moved in. She ran up the slope, quickly aiming and throwing a grenade at the colonists’ bunker. The detonation knocked them unconscious and she exhaled with relief, turning back to the creepers. Wrex and Garrus had taken care of the swarm below, but as she turned around to press onward, the elevator door opened to reveal more. Garrus and Wrex shot at them immediately. Dez bit her lip and took a few steps backward. The creeper in the middle followed her, and she shot it just outside the elevator.

They looked at her curiously, but she tiptoed over the puddle outside the elevator, then gingerly stood on one foot between the two puddles inside the elevator.

Wrex laughed. “Don’t hurt the colonists, don’t leave giant puddles of acid in the elevator. Nag, nag, nag.”

On the next floor, the first grenade didn’t work, and the colonists kept firing on them. Hiding behind parallel pillars, Garrus looked inquisitively over at Dez. She set her jaw and looked back at him with her wordless response. He nodded in understanding and stayed in position as she threw another grenade.

If patience was the hardest part of this endeavour to Dez, she couldn’t imagine how torturous it felt to Garrus. Waiting for the swarms of creepers to get out of the way of the colonists, waiting for the grenades to go off, waiting for a lull long enough to inch forward. She nearly collapsed with relief when the final grenade went off and the last colonist fell unconscious. Feros was, for the moment, silent, but for the ringing in her ears.

Garrus walked up to her almost nonchalantly, reloading his gun and resting it on his hip. “Nice work, Commander.”

Dez looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you.”

Before they could say more, Fai Dan staggered out from behind a building. Dez made a movement to keep Garrus from raising his gun, but he hadn’t done so.

“I tried to fight it,” Fai Dan said. “But it gets in your head. You can’t imagine the pain.” He looked around at the unconscious colonists. “These people trusted me.”

Fai Dan raised his gun, pointed at Shepard. She immediately raised her gun in response, and so did Garrus, behind her.

“It wants me to stop you,” Fai Dan hissed through clenched teeth. Each word seemed like it was forced from his mouth. “But I won’t. I won’t!”

He turned the gun on himself and Dez closed her eyes as she faced away. Garrus lowered his gun and fixed his focus on Shepard. She met his eyes and she could hear the words he thought in her head: _He did that to protect his people. It wasn’t your failure. This was still a victory. You did the right thing._

She smiled ruefully, and walked ahead, down toward the Thorian’s lair.

-

Dez sat on the Mako’s hood holding a cup of coffee in her hands while Garrus worked on the undercarriage. The warm ceramic burned her hands slightly, but she found the sensation oddly comforting. She took a long sip, closing her eyes as she swallowed.

“How’s it going down there?” she yelled down to Garrus.

His sigh reverberated off the Mako and she stifled a giggle. “Great, unless you were particularly attached to the combustion manifold,” he said. He slid out from beneath the vehicle, wiping his hands on a towel as he stood up.

She mock-pouted. “It was my _favourite_ combustion manifold.”

He walked around the Mako, stopping in front of her. “’Was’ being the operative word.”

“I’ll put in a requisition order,” she said, taking another sip of coffee.

He tossed the towel toward his work station and it flopped over his computer. Folding his arms across his torso, he looked up at her. “I know you said you were okay after the Thorian, but…are you okay?”

She nodded. “Bit of a headache. I’ll be alright.”

He nodded. His gaze drifted down and to the left, and his thumb rubbed back and forth on his arm.

She tilted her head down, trying to move her head into his line of sight. “What about you?” she asked.

He looked back at her, flaring his mandibles. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She drained the rest of her coffee and hopped down off the Mako. “Are you?” she asked, lowering her voice.

He didn’t respond for a few moments. “I’m—I didn’t mean to—” He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. That I made you feel like I thought badly of you. You’re a good person. The best person I’ve ever met.”

She scoffed. “I’d say you were full of shit, but you do work for C-Sec.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, excitement colouring his voice. “I get the difference now. C-Sec doesn’t really care if they do the right thing. They just want it done the right way. You care about doing the right thing, the right way.”

She looked at her feet, folding her arms over her chest and biting her lip. “That doesn’t mean I always get it right.”

“But you try. That’s worth something.”

She raised her head. “Yeah. I hope so.” She smiled and patted his arm. “Good talking to you, Garrus.”

He unfolded his arms. “Anytime.”

She walked toward the elevator and stopped halfway. She looked over her shoulder to see Garrus already back at his workstation, moving the towel from the screen to beside his keyboard. She turned back and stepped straight into Wrex’s stomach.

“Oof. Sorry, Wrex.”

Wrex sighed and shook his head, walking away without a word.


	8. such unimaginable things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is "Sky Full of Song" by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> Warnings: smut, brief vague mention of death.

Normally Dez showered in the mornings; she liked to scald herself awake from the outside in before her first cup of coffee. But some days—such as, say, one spent rolling in the red dust of Agebinium while outrunning a pirate gang—called for two showers. The fine dust permeated every joint of her armour and stuck to the layer of sweat coating her skin, giving her the feeling of walking sandpaper. She looked longingly at her bed as she entered her quarters but realised with a groaning sigh that if she allowed herself to lie down, she wouldn’t get up again. She didn’t bother getting out of her undersuit before grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the showers.

Garrus looked over his shoulder in surprise as the bathroom doors opened in front of Dez.

“Hey, Garrus.” She smiled, wearily but warmly, before setting her things down two spots down from him and moving back to the mirror. She pulled her hair tie out and shook her hair down. “Ugh.” She picked up a strand of hair, gone stiff with sweat and full of sand.

“Sorry. Usually no one’s here around this time,” Garrus said, catching her eye in the mirror as he rubbed a flannel in circles around the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry to disturb.” She sighed with relief as she peeled off her undersuit. “I just feel too disgusting to leave it ‘til morning. God, you can _see_ all that dust,” she said, giving herself a once-over, brushing the dirt off her stomach with one finger.

She turned the nozzle on and hummed happily as the hot water hit her head, trickling down and leaving trails through the dust on her body. The rest would need scrubbing off, but for the moment, she was content to simply stand in the running water and feel the knots in her aching muscles untangle.

Garrus cleared his throat. She opened her eyes to see him staring resolutely at the wall in front of him. “So. Geth on Noveria.”

She grinned incredulously, a short laugh abruptly escaping in surprise. “Do we have to talk about work?”

His mandibles flared. “No.”

She turned to face him and took a step. The loss of water contact was regrettable, but the steam filling the room kept her comfortable. He flinched as she touched his arm and she quickly withdrew the hand. Her brow knitted in worry and she lowered her voice. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just– stressed.”

She leaned over to put her head in his line of sight, but he continued to focus on the wall. “Anything I can help with?”

He tilted his head and made a thoughtful humming noise. It sounded vaguely musical with his flanging voice. “Well. I’ve got two ideas.”

“Shoot.”

“First is we punt Saren’s head into dark space.”

“Love it,” she deadpanned, lifting an eyebrow. “You know where he is?”

He shook his head as he turned to face her. “Which leads me to idea number two.” His hand awkwardly brushed her hip, his talons grazing along the healing scratches they had left before.

The tenderness of the motion struck her as a little odd, but she let that thought slide away with the water running over her as she closed the distance between them. “Good idea.”

She raised an arm, about to drape it around Garrus’s neck, when he dropped to his knees. The bright blue of his eyes as he looked up at her with a wordless question was arresting.

“Yes,” she breathed in still-surprised answer. She moved back against the wall and widened her stance as he shifted closer to her. Hooking a leg over his shoulder, she reached down to spread her lips as he pressed his tongue into her. He felt insistent, but she was unsure of the point he was trying to make. Her thoughts quickly moved elsewhere as he lightly flicked his tongue over her clit, sending a slow-building burn through her nerves. She gripped his shoulder as the sensation reached her chest and she arched her back against the cold wall.

“You sure you’re the one getting stress relief out of this?” she half-whispered laughingly.

He hummed in assent, the vibration of the sound buzzing through her. Against the wall, most of the water wasn’t quite hitting her, but it ran down Garrus’s back and along her leg. Her temperature rose with the steam around them, nearly making her sweat in the humid heat of the room. She panted in deep, quick breaths as he worked his tongue faster, the gentle burn in her nerves starting to crackle like a fire.

“Garrus,” she whispered.

A high-pitched whine sounded in his throat and he lowered his shoulders as he thrust his tongue into her. He curled his tongue upward, and she gasped, bracing a hand flat against the wall behind her. Her foot on the floor slipped slightly and his hands flew to her hips to steady her.

“You okay?” he panted, leaning back just enough to look up at her.

“Yes, don’t stop,” she slurred. She caught his eye for a moment but found herself unable to hold his gaze any longer than that; something in his look was like a sun – too intense to look at directly.

Dez felt the heat of his breath as he licked up to her clit, the pace of his flickering tongue becoming frantic as everything in her seemed to tighten. Her hand moved to the back of his head. He let out a plaintive grunt as he moved his tongue decisively slow, caressing her with its tip before resuming pace. A sharp pain from her foot over his shoulder alerted her to the fact that it was curled in a point and beginning to cramp. She flexed it and pulled her leg closer to her, pushing Garrus’s shoulder forward to scrape gently along the underside. He tightened his grip on her hip, his arm wound around her thigh. Her fingers scraped at the tile behind her. She gasped, desperate for more air as he stroked her with his tongue. The tightness broke and she cried out in relief, slowly collapsing onto Garrus as she rode out the end of her orgasm with small undulations of her hips.

Her breath returned slowly and the ringing in her ears gave way to the gentle white noise of the shower. She was half-sitting on Garrus’s knee with her arms clasped around his neck, and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes. When his eyes met hers, they widened, and he quickly averted them.

She chuckled. “Give me a minute,” she said in a husky voice, closing her eyes.

His mandibles flared as he turned his head back to her. “For what?”

“Your turn.”

He shook his head and moved her arms off his neck. She stood, allowing him to stand after her. He braced a hand on the wall, splashing water into his face with the other. “I’m fine, you don’t have to-“

She put a hand on his upper arm, biting back a laugh at his stubborn embarrassment. “What if I want to?”

He looked blankly at her hand on his arm, then at her face, and back to her hand.

“I’d just—feel really bad about not returning the favour,” she stuttered.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes dropping to the floor.

She looked at him inquisitively for a moment before she realised what she’d said. “Oh! No, I mean—I meant—it’s not that I don’t want-“

“I really am fine, Shepard,” he muttered morosely. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.”

“Dez. And it’s not obligation, I just—you’re stressed. You helped me with mine, I want to help you with yours.”

“Sounds like obligation to me.”

“No, it’s-“ She huffed an exasperated sigh. “I care about you. You aren’t at your best when you’re this wound up, and if you aren’t at your best you could get hurt.”  
He was quiet, staring at the floor unblinking as water ran down from his head to the rest of his body in small rivulets, seemingly made smaller by the size of him.

She manoeuvred herself between him and the wall beneath the shower nozzle. “Please,” she pleaded, placing her hands firmly on his arms. “Forget everything else. Just be here with me, right now.”

His face lifted enough to look her in the eye. She could see him thinking. His eyes half-closed as he leaned in. She froze, her breath catching half-inhaled in her throat. He moved past her face to rest his forehead on her shoulder. She let out her breath and moved her arms around his back, pulling him flush against her.

-

“Approach Control, this is the SSV Normandy, requesting a vector and a berth.”

Dez shifted her weight side to side as she stood over Joker’s shoulder in the cockpit. Noveria did not promise to be _fun_ , per se, but she was excited about getting a chance to use her cold weather gear. She wore a wool-lined undersuit, a thermal layer, and an old and fraying orange knit scarf, tucked invisibly into her armour, but making her all the more cheerful for the knowledge that it was there.

There was a pause on the other end of the comm line before the terse response. “Normandy, your arrival was not scheduled. Our defence grid is armed and tracking you. State your business.”

Joker rolled his eyes. “Citadel business. We got a Council Spectre aboard.”

“Landing access granted,” the sceptical control officer replied. “Be informed, we will be checking identification on arrival. If confirmation cannot be established, your vessel will be impounded.”

Joker clicked the comm channel off. “What a fun bunch! I think I’ll take my next leave here.”

Dez shook her head with amusement as she stepped into the airlock. Garrus and Liara fell in behind her and waited for the pressure equalisation protocol.  
“Ready for the cold?” Liara asked.

“I live for the cold,” Dez exhaled brightly. “Runs in my veins.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re a cold person,” Garrus said.

Dez smirked over her shoulder at him. “No, my family’s eastern European. Had a great-grandmother from Siberia, she was practically made of ice.”

“Unfortunately there aren’t any turian genes adapted for the cold.” He shivered as the airlock door opened and a swift, icy breeze blasted their faces.

They made their way toward the port proper—Garrus moving more stiffly than usual—and were stopped by armed guards as they rounded a corner.

“That’s far enough,” the woman in the centre said, holding a hand up to halt them.

“Something wrong, Officer?” asked Dez.

“You’d better hope there isn’t,” another officer sneered.

“This is an unscheduled arrival. I’ll need your credentials,” the first officer said.

Dez’s first instinct was to respond to the tense and hostile tone with vitriol. She closed her eyes, taking a silent deep breath. “I’m a Council Spectre. Commander Nadezhda Shepard,” she replied calmly.

“Load of horse crap, ma’am,” the second officer said loudly as she turned to the first.

Dez’s eyes narrowed before the first officer responded. “We will have to confirm that. We will also need to confiscate your weapons.”

The officer took a step toward the group and Garrus and Liara immediately drew weapons. “Citadel security supersedes yours,” Garrus said, keeping his rifle stone-still and pointed directly between the eyes of the first officer.

Dez didn’t draw her weapon, but she also didn’t tell her companions to stand down. “I don’t want to cause any trouble, ma’am, but we’re keeping our weapons.”

The officer opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by a voice over the loudspeaker. “Captain Matsuo, stand down!”

No one lowered their weapons, but Captain Matsuo looked up in the direction of the speaker.

“We’ve confirmed their identities,” the voice continued. “Spectres are allowed to carry weapons here, Captain.”

The captain nodded to her companions, who holstered their weapons. Liara holstered hers, but Garrus only lowered his. Dez shot him a look, and he shrugged.

“You may proceed, Spectre,” Captain Matsuo said cautiously. “I hope the rest of your visit is less confrontational.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Dez muttered under her breath as they passed by.

-

Halfway up the forbidding road toward Peak 15, the Mako’s engine sputtered and cut out. The loss of heat was immediately palpable, and even Dez looked longingly over her shoulder at the thick quilt Garrus had cocooned himself in in the back seat.

“I can fix it,” Liara said, putting her helmet on as she kicked open the passenger door.

“Are you sure?” Dez yelled after her over the howling wind.

Liara didn’t respond before slamming the door shut. Dez turned back. Garrus’s eyes were only just visible over the top of the blanket.

“May I join you?” she asked with exaggerated sweetness.

“Oh, Miss Ice-in-my-Veins having trouble with the blizzard?” His voice came muffled through the blanket.

“That’s Commander Ice-in-my-Veins to you, buddy. Budge up.” She popped the shell of her armour off and left it in the front seat before she crawled into the back. Lifting up the bottom of the blanket, she wriggled herself underneath and up to Garrus.

“Wouldn’t that extra layer help?” he asked. His voice had taken on a thin, reedy quality that Dez attributed to the elevation and the weather.

She shook her head, pressing her body against his armoured one. “Body heat. Better than armour. You should lose yours too, for now.”

The passenger door opened again as Liara threw herself in, managing to close the door behind her with her foot. “Goddess!”

“Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” Dez asked.

“Yes,” Liara said. “Just needed a break from the cold. And a wrench.” She uncurled herself from the huddled ball she had made on the front seat and paused as her eyes rested on Shepard’s armour.

Dez followed her line of sight and felt her cheeks flush. “Body heat warms you up better than armour.”

Liara hummed thoughtfully, bending down to open a toolbox on the Mako’s floor and rummage inside it. “Does that work for turians as well?”

“Yes.” Garrus’s voice cracked.

“How convenient,” Liara said smoothly as she picked up the wrench and went back outside.

Garrus fumbled with frozen fingers to take his armour off, with the added level of difficulty of attempting to accomplish this underneath a blanket. Dez laughed and took pity on him. After she helped him discard his armour, she moved close to him and pulled the blanket tight around their shoulders.

The wind outside sounded faint through the Mako’s thick walls and windows. Dez heard the loud thump of her heartbeat, interspersed with the rapid drumroll that was Garrus’s. This close to him, she could almost feel it trying to burst through his chest.

An involuntary shiver shook her and the blanket fell from her shoulder. Garrus reached around her, returning the blanket to its place. His hand lingered at her shoulder, and she turned to look up at him. They locked widened eyes, both frozen but for shallow breathing.

“All done!” Liara exclaimed as she vaulted inside once more, keeping the door open for the barest minimum of time. She reached over and turned the key, starting the engine once more. “Ready to keep moving?” she asked, glancing over at Dez.

“Mmhm,” she replied, hastily scrambling over the seat and clamping her armour back into place before jumping back in the driver’s seat.

-

Dez and Garrus walked a few feet behind Liara back to the Normandy. Dez felt she should have something to say, from one girl who lost her mother to another, but there was simply no comparing losing your mother face-to-face to her simply disappearing in a vicious and widespread attack. She would come up with comforting words later. For now, all she could do was give her space and hope it was the right thing to do.

Garrus cleared his throat in an obvious attempt at levity. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get off this planet.”

Dez smiled, more at the motive behind his words than the words themselves. “Are all turians such babies about the cold or is it just you?”

He bristled, flaring his mandibles. “Palaven is an extremely warm planet, nothing in our evolution would have prepared us for-“

A snowball hit him in the face and they stopped walking. Dez looked ahead to see Liara stifling a giggle behind her hand. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” she said.

Dez laughed. There was still a lingering sadness in Liara’s eyes, and Dez knew they would need to talk later. But for the moment, she thought as she reached down and scooped up some snow, therapy could take the form of a snowball fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in the Mako is actually a prompt from [angelikitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelikitten) about two years ago...you thought I forgot but really I just had to write 15,000 words before I got to the scene I envisioned for your prompt :x I hope it doesn't disappoint <3


	9. how big the hourglass, how deep the sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be That Bitch but the chapter song for this is "no plan" by hozier
> 
> chapter warnings: smut, death, grief, death again

Virmire was not, in any way, like Torfan. That didn’t make the outcome any easier to bear.

“I don’t think we can hold them off until you get here,” Kaidan said over the comm link. “I’m activating the bomb.”

Dez stopped cold in her tracks. “What are you doing, Lieutenant?” she hissed.

“Making sure this bomb goes off, no matter what.”

 _Don’t make me make this call,_ Dez thought, but she knew it was already too late.

“It’s done. Go get Williams and get the hell out of here,” he said. His tone was urgent and commanding, in a way that made Dez feel he thought he had made the decision for her. She knew better than that.

“Screw that,” Ashley piped up. “We can handle ourselves. Go back and get Alenko.”

She was not ordering otherwise safe soldiers to their undeserved deaths. No one had gone into this mission expecting an easy ride. But there was a difference between soldiers expecting danger and soldiers expecting death. It struck her that she was one who expected danger; she expected every problem to be workable, every dark cloud to have a silver lining. She did not expect a finite end. She did not expect to not have some way to save them both. She racked her brain, chewing her lip until it bled thinking and strategizing and desperately grasping for any miracle ending to this story.

“Williams, radio Joker and tell him to meet us on the AA tower.”

Ashley sighed, and it felt like a slap in the face. “Yes, Commander.”

“It’s the right choice,” Kaidan said. “And you know it, Ash.”

“I’m sorry,” Dez choked. She could not, would not break down until later, but she felt like a fraying plush toy barely held together by ever-loosening stitches. “I had to make a choice.”

“I understand, Commander. I don’t regret a thing.”

She didn’t believe him. In his shoes, she would regret jumping for bomb duty. She would regret coming on this mission instead of following Anderson, or otherwise begging for reassignment. She would regret dying for a cause that had so few to fight for it to begin with, and leaving no one behind to take her place.

She managed to get through the debrief and back to her quarters before she broke. She stumbled as soon as she heard the door swish closed behind her, falling forward onto the bed and sobbing, shrieking her grief into the blankets growing soaked with her tears. In a way she felt foolish; she had hardly known the lieutenant. But she knew it wasn’t only him for whom she cried. It was every face that stayed with her from Torfan. Every soldier whose future she stole. Every family who lost a child by her order. When she enlisted, she had not expected to be the hand of death, sending people to oblivion in service of causes they barely understood.

There was a gentle knock at the door. She clamped her mouth shut, sitting up and rubbing her eyes futilely. “Yes?” she said, drainage thick in her throat making her voice hoarse.

“It’s me,” Garrus said softly.

She sniffled as she stared blankly into middle space. All of a sudden she felt embarrassed, the satisfied emptiness of having sobbed herself dry fading into self-consciousness at the idea of someone seeing her like this. Vulnerability was a secret to be concealed; if she was anything less than a hero, how could anyone depend on her or follow her into battle? She wasn’t used to this feeling—that a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on might be something that would help her, rather than solely something she offered others.

“Come in,” she said. Her voice was so hoarse she wasn’t sure he could hear it through the door, but the door opened and he walked through. As much as she didn’t feel like herself, Garrus didn’t look like himself, either. Perhaps her perception was skewed both inward and outward. He seemed to stand a little straighter, hold his arms a little looser. The stuttering hesitance to his movement was gone as he sat at the edge of her bed, looking at her with concern plain on his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The rumble of his deep voice seemed to lodge itself in her chest like a hot water bottle.

“Not really.” She reached an arm across the space between them. He looked at it blankly, then back up at her. Her arm wavered and she bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if this was an interspecies thing or if normal people just communicated what they wanted. Rather, she hoped it was the former, but suspected it was the latter.

She dropped her arm and closed her eyes. “I need…to lean on you.”

“Okay.” He moved closer to her, awkwardly scooting himself across the bed. She drew her legs up, forming herself into a ball, and leaned her face into his shoulder. Though empty of tears, her breath still shuddered as she inhaled and exhaled in slow, measured gasps. Neither of them spoke as the ship quietly hummed around them.

-

No one made eye contact with her as she walked through the ship. If anyone had stopped her, she wouldn’t have known what to say or do anyway, but the deliberate avoidance made her stomach roll. Perhaps they blamed her for Kaidan’s death or for not catching Saren sooner. Perhaps they pitied her. Neither option was particularly comforting, so silence would suffice.

Besides, there was no time to dwell on wallowing. They finally had the location of the Mu Relay and could follow Saren through it to Ilos. If the crew hated her now, they would only have to hate her for a few more days.

She stepped up to the galaxy map, her eyes scanning the newly marked area of the relay. Before she could ask Pressly to plot the course, Joker’s voice, more subdued than usual, came through over the comm.

“Commander? Council wants to see us on the Citadel. Sounds like your Virmire report got their attention.”

“I’m glad something finally did,” she said under her breath. She cleared her throat. “Take us there, Joker.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.”

She stepped down and hovered at the top of the stairs down to her quarters, leaving the guard standing by the door awkwardly saluting while avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she turned around and headed for the cockpit instead. Joker didn’t look up as she slumped against a console in the corner, folding her arms over her stomach.

“Am I a nervous wreck or does this not feel like good news?” she asked.

Joker continued fiddling with the interface in front of him. “Which part?”

She stared at him for a moment, but he would not meet her gaze. Casting her eyes down, she shifted her weight and tightened her crossed arms. “I can go if I’m bothering you.”

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Sorry. It’s—nothing.”

She nodded without responding and pushed herself upright, quickly stepping toward the bridge.

“It isn’t your fault,” Joker said over his shoulder.

She stopped in her tracks at the doorway but didn’t turn around.

“It’s Saren’s fault.”

“Yeah,” she replied quietly. She didn’t wait to hear more.

-

It took more effort than Dez honestly cared to expend to keep from laughing at the Council. She should have seen the trap coming a mile away.

“You honestly think he’s going to come back from Ilos and be stopped by a few ships in his way?”

The turian councillor sighed gruffly. “You overestimate him.”

“You underestimate him!” Dez yelled. What patience she had been developing was not yet strong enough to withstand the Council’s waffling. “You’re throwing away the lives of everyone you’ve stationed to block his path. They aren’t prepared for what’s coming their way.”

The asari councillor squared her shoulders as she clasped her hands behind her back. “We understand that _you_ find him undefeatable, but-“

Dez laughed bitterly. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’ve seen the Reapers, I know what Saren’s coming back with, and you can’t-“

“Yes, we can,” the salarian councillor snapped.

“The Council is right,” Ambassador Udina said, eyeing Dez out of the corner of his eye as she whirled around to face him. “Sending you or anyone else into the Terminus is out of the question.”

Her eyes flared, unable to contain the furious fire within them, and she hissed through her teeth. “Ambassador-“

Udina tilted his chin up, deliberately avoiding Dez’s demanding gaze. “You and the Normandy are grounded until further notice.”

“At least let me defend the Citadel,” she said, annoyance still colouring her request. Even though she thought the blockade useless, it wouldn’t be as useless as keeping a top-of-the-line battleship off the field entirely.

Udina glared down his nose at her. “And watch you take off toward the Terminus the second our backs are turned?”

Her brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t _abandon_ -“

Udina interrupted her with a dismissive wave. “That’s enough, Commander. _Try_ to stay out of trouble.”

What she couldn’t ask was whether he would believe the Reapers were coming if someone else was the one telling him. She had once been devastated that her barbaric reputation preceded her, but now it made her livid. She was good enough to fight for humanity but not good enough for them to listen to her, good enough to send as a weapon but not enough to be trusted. It was little comfort that they’d all be dead soon and it would cease to matter.

She found herself back on the Normandy without any recollection of walking there. The ship was empty, and a red lock covered the interface in the cockpit. Udina must have sent word of the grounding ahead of her arrival. A renewed column of fury rose in her throat at the indignity of being put in time-out like a naughty child.

She stomped down to the cargo bay, grabbed a gun from her locker, and gracelessly flopped onto the floor, scrubbing the barrel too hard. Her hand slipped and the gun clattered to the floor. She leaned back to lie flat on the floor, the echo of her cracking vertebrae reverberating off the walls.

There was no longer even a focus to her anger—just screaming inside her head. It was, after all, what they would expect from the Butcher of Torfan. Chasing respectability had been such a waste of time. Although, she reminded herself, she did not and could not regret the decisions she had made since then. Working on being a better person was its own reward, which was good, because she certainly wasn’t going to get any other kind of reward, like trust, or respect, or her goddamn ship back.

“Hey, Commander?”

She sat up with a start. “Joker?”

“Thought you’d still be here,” he said over the comm. “You’ve got a message from Captain Anderson. He wants to meet you at Flux.”

“Oh.” She looked at the gun on the floor, suddenly ashamed of her fruitless tantrum. “Uh, thanks.”

“I’m not watching you.”

“Good to know.” She picked up the gun and put it back in the locker before turning and flipping off the camera in the corner.

“Hey!” Joker’s indignant voice rang out through the cargo bay, and Dez jogged into the elevator laughing.

-

“Hmm,” Ashley said as they walked into the nightclub. The flashing lights from the dance floor made Dez’s eyes sting.

“Thoughts?” she said to Ashley with a grin.

Ashley shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Just didn’t think this was the captain’s scene.”

Anderson waved at them from a table by the bar, and Dez led Ashley and Garrus over.

“Good to see you,” Anderson said as they sat down, pushing a glass across the table.

Dez picked it up. “Sorry I lost your ship,” she said before taking a sip of the pleasantly scorching whiskey.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “I think I can unlock the systems so you can get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow as she slowly lowered the glass. “And how do you plan to manage that? Udina’s not any fonder of you than me.”

“Yes, well, he’s going to like me even less after I hack into his computer.”

“Wait,” Garrus said. “You’re suggesting we steal the Normandy?”

Dez shrugged. “The alternative is let everyone die when Saren brings back the Reapers.”

Garrus’s mandibles fluttered as he leaned one arm forward on the table. “What about all that ‘the way you do things matters’ stuff?”

Dez grinned at the sardonic tone Garrus had adopted. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Guessing that their comm channels were being monitored, Dez sent Ashley to round up the crew discreetly. Garrus took half of the supply list to the C-Sec requisitions officer while Dez took the rest, hoping to arouse less suspicion with smaller purchases. She tried not to keep checking the time as she made her way back to the Normandy. She dropped everything just inside the airlock and scrambled over to the cockpit to look over Joker’s shoulder. The red lock continued to glow over the interface.

Joker squinted up at her. “Is what I think is happening…happening?”

She nodded tersely. “Be ready to go.”

He raised his eyebrows and turned his attention back to the interface, tapping two fingers on the arm of his chair. She heard movement and quiet conversation from further down the CIC, and felt antsy about keeping the crew in the dark until they had left. The alternative would be leaving anyone who didn’t want to be part of their disobedience in Udina’s hands, possibly to be punished in her stead. There was no good way to commit treason.

The lock flashed green. “Go, go!” Dez urged, her gaze darting to the docking bay elevator as she was suddenly seized with panic. It remained closed as it became smaller and smaller in the distance, and Dez heaved a sigh of relief when they left Citadel orbit. “Nice work,” she half-whispered as she left the cockpit.

“Hey, I’d steal a ship for you any time,” Joker said brightly.

Standing at the galaxy map, Dez spoke to the crew gathered around. “I apologise,” she said, straightening her back and pressing her hands to her diaphragm, reminding herself to project and keep the waver out of her voice. “I don’t like not being honest with my crew, but I hope you understand why it was necessary. We are heading to Ilos, hopefully to stop Saren once and for all.”

She paused, looking around the room. Garrus stood next to one of the soldiers stationed by the door to the stairs, about a foot taller than everyone around him. She smiled at him. “I understand if you don’t want to be part of this treasonous action. I won’t force anyone to stay.” She made brief eye contact with each person in the room. Wrex chuckled when she reached him. “Before we reach the Terminus Systems, would anyone like to be released?”

Dez had never heard the CIC so silent.

“We’re with you to the end, Shepard,” Ashley said.

A murmur of assent, punctuated with a few cries of “hear, hear!” rippled through the crowd. Dez smiled as she looked around the room once more, smiling politely and nodding in brief glances with each person who caught her eye. Her eyes lingered on Garrus, as his lingered on her. Her smile wavered, feeling almost lopsidedly placed on her face, and she looked away as she felt a bloodrush to her ears.

Slowly the group dispersed and each crew member headed back to their post. Pressly went to the cockpit to plot a course with Joker, and Dez stepped down from the galaxy map. As she made her way downstairs toward her quarters, she saw Garrus leaning against a wall in the mess.

“So,” she said, mirroring his action as she stood next to him.

“So.”

They looked at each other with amused grins fading into nervous smiles. Dez’s head filled with thoughts she felt needed to be said, but she couldn’t draw one coherent word from the swirling mass of energy and impulse.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she said quietly.

He exhaled in a short laugh. “Are you kidding? I’m right behind you.”

She pursed her lips. She imagined if she asked anyone on her crew their response would be much the same, and remain equally unnecessary in each case. “You didn’t have to be, though.”

“No, I think I did.”

A frown briefly flitted across her face, but the confusion came and went without another thought. She remembered the headstrong C-Sec officer ready to impose justice at any cost with whom she’d been saddled, and saw the man now ready to throw himself into hell if it would save the world. He credited her with that change, she was sure, but it had always been there. She wondered if he saw his own work in her theft of the Normandy—not that she’d ever acknowledge it. Dez was not a believer in fate, but perhaps Garrus had a point; however this was to end, there was no way out but together. She wondered what that meant for after the mission. She had never thought of ‘after the mission’ before.

She pushed herself off the wall and inclined her head toward her quarters as she stepped in that direction. He took the command and followed.

The door slid closed behind him and they stood frozen two feet from each other, as awkward as the first time he’d come to her quarters. She laughed nervously, breathily.

“I, uh.“ She gestured vaguely to herself, then to him before realising how ridiculous she was. She placed a flat palm against her forehead. “Do you—I mean.” She dropped her hand to her side. “I’m pretty stressed.”

Garrus echoed her laugh. “Yeah. I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“God, we’re smooth.” She smirked as she took her shirt off over her head. His hands slowly curled around her waist, pulling her in too close for the room she needed to move. She found herself inches from his face when she freed herself from the shirt, frozen like a Gorgon’s victim in his warm blue gaze. Her chest rose and fell though the breath somehow didn’t reach her throat.

She bit her lip and broke their locked gaze as she shimmied inelegantly out of her pants. His warm, callused hand was at her back before she could look back and he moved her into position beneath him on the bed. Nothing seemed to have a right place, all his sharper angles digging into her softer expanses, yet the smooth leathery skin of his chest laying against her stomach felt as comfortable as a too-heavy duvet.

She ran her hand down the raised edges of his back as his mouth brushed over her stomach and the skin beneath her breasts. The feel of his tongue was a familiar one, but there was something different in this brush of mouth plates across her skin, his hot breath somehow leaving goosebumps in its wake. He raised himself above her, heavy-lidded eyes watching her nipple harden beneath his fingers. Her hips bucked gently against him, and he looked up, the dim blue light of the room reflecting in his dark eyes. An odd buzzing ran through her nerves, not fear or nervousness, but not quite anticipation or excitement; it was like she was a lightning rod and the air was full of storm.

She placed her hand over his on her hip, holding him in place as she slowly moved her hips. Their movements were purposeless, not in pursuit of anything but merely touching and being touched. His mouth hovered over hers, breathing in as she breathed out, the air between them unbearably hot. She entwined her leg around his, using the leverage to arch her back, pressing their bodies closer, sweat sticking them together. He touched his forehead to hers for a moment, then jerked back wide-eyed, as if he’d been burned.

“You okay?” she slurred in a whisper.

“Mm,” he said, moving his hand to the small of her back and rolling them over.

She re-adjusted to the new position, sitting up as she straddled him. The cold air of the room hitting her sweat-coated back made her shiver. His already-emerged cock twitched as if anticipating her touch before she licked her palm and stroked him. He swallowed a high-pitched whine with obvious effort, closing his eyes as he arched his back. Her hand slowed as she watched his face. Objectively, his face was all sharp angles; in this moment, the only word she could think of for his face was ‘soft,’ and she knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t think of a better one. His eyes opened and she quickly averted her gaze, lingering instead on the thick, blue cock in her hand. She stroked him once more before she moved her knees forward on the bed, positioning herself to take him inside her. They both moaned as they came together, stopping themselves and laughing as they caught each other’s eye. The laugh faded as quickly as the moan as Dez rocked her hips forward, setting a slow rhythm.

He gently gripped her hips, pulling her forward slightly with each undulation. The impulse to speed up fought the strange desire to linger in this moment and she nervously stretched her fingers before bracing a hand on Garrus’s chest. She closed her eyes and saw blue instead of black, the rhythm of waves hitting the beach crashing in her ears and driving her movement in its pace. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks but willed it to go away and let her keep this divine rush longer—to no avail, as she came with shaking legs, dropping her head to his chest as she caught her breath and her fingers buzzed to numbness.

“Get on top,” she whispered hoarsely, rolling off him.

“Do you need a minute?” he asked as he moved.

“No, please,” she said, wrapping a leg around his back. “Please.”

He seemed to be having the same fight between slow and fast, desperately measuring his thrusts despite the shaking in his own legs vibrating against her. She whispered his name and his resolve weakened, quickly losing his laboriously steady pace and pushing into her hard and fast. “Fuck, yes,” she moaned into his shoulder, her lips accidentally brushing his skin as she spoke.

“Fuck,” he echoed as he came, nearly knocking the air out of her as he collapsed, pointed edges settling into her as if they were meant to fit together.

As the fog in her head cleared, she became aware of how much contact between their bodies there still was. Something about it made her feel strangely nervous; this was far from the first time, and with no feelings stronger than friendship between them there weren’t stakes to speak of, but she couldn’t recall a time before when focusing on each point at which his skin touched hers sent a flush into her cheeks and increased her heartbeat a little.

She cleared her throat quietly, and Garrus looked up from where he had been resting his head on her shoulder. “Oh,” he said, and rolled off her, resting a hand on her stomach while he re-settled himself.

The awkward movement made her chuckle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to feel something for me,” she said, with a smirk largely hidden by the dim lighting.

He removed his hand from her stomach quickly. “Ha,” he exhaled.

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Dez turned onto her side. “If this—not that I think it will, but—if this all goes wrong, I want you to know I’m grateful. That you’ve always had my back.”

Garrus’s laser-focused gaze scrutinised her face, as if trying to read something written between her eyes. He inhaled to speak, but was interrupted by Joker’s voice over the comm.

“Approaching the Mu Relay, Commander.”

“Thanks, Joker.” She sat up and stretched. “Were you about to say something?”

Garrus shook his head, getting up and pulling his pants back on. “Nothing important.”

-

Dez quirked an eyebrow in disgust as she, Garrus, and Wrex peered over the edge of the platform at what was, until very recently, Saren. She could almost have been persuaded to feel sorry for him: a pawn in the Reapers’ game, convinced he was a king. But his motivation from the beginning had been self-serving and power-hungry, and she was not one to be fooled by the tragedy into which he walked himself. “Make sure he’s dead,” she said as she turned to the central console.

The moment she opened the comm channel, a fractured and static-filled message broke through. “—Destiny Ascension, main drives offli—barriers do—peat, the Council is on board—”

A gunshot echoed through the Council chamber, followed by Wrex yelling, “He’s dead!”

She configured the comm to contact Joker. “Normandy, do you read?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joker replied. Wrex and Garrus walked up behind Dez as she listened. “We caught that distress call from the Destiny Ascension. If you unlock the relays around the Citadel, I can bring the Arcturus Fleet in to save the Council.”

She froze. She certainly held no love for the Council and was deeply sick of the apparent hobby she was developing of sending Alliance soldiers to their deaths. But if she let the Council die, the public would certainly chalk it up to the Butcher of Torfan’s running tally anyway. She was tired of making this call.

She sighed as she pressed a few buttons on the interface. “Opening the relays now.”

“You’re really wasting human lives on the Council? You know they won’t appreciate it,” Wrex said.

“Don’t you think I’d save everyone if I could?” Dez snapped.

“The soldiers at least signed up for this,” said Garrus, surprisingly calmly. “And even if they aren’t grateful, the Council won’t forget them. If you can’t save them all, you can at least make a difference.”

Dez tried not to look too incredulous, but couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping slightly open. Garrus caught her eye with the smallest, near-imperceptible nod of understanding.

Suddenly, the air crackled with red bolts of electricity. A hissing, crackling noise came from Saren’s body below them and Dez quickly jumped down, gun at the ready. Garrus and Wrex followed, and Wrex shot futilely at the re-animating corpse. The force breaking through Saren’s body expelled his flesh, glowing red beneath the sharp electric blue of the cybernetic implants.

“I am Sovereign,” the corpse hissed, with Sovereign’s reedy, mechanic howl layered over Saren’s echo.

“Oh, good,” Wrex said, activating his barrier.

The husk of Saren leapt around the room like nothing so much as a frog. Dez and Garrus overloaded its shields and it retaliated with an electric attack of its own, sending red waves dancing over Dez’s armour. She ducked behind a wall, avoiding a second barrage from the husk, and popped out of cover to quickly fire and retreat before overheating.

Over the comms she vaguely registered Hackett directing the fleet against Sovereign. She glanced up through the broken glass to see the sky full of fire.

A beam from the husk pulled her back to the fight at hand, knocking her onto her back. She groaned and threw her arm out with a damping wave before the husk could hit again. Garrus vaulted over debris to offer her a hand up as Wrex took advantage of the temporary reprieve and emptied a clip into Saren. The husk scampered away and brought its shields back before attacking again.

Dez and Garrus ran in opposite directions as they overloaded the shields again. Wrex’s vitals flashed at the side of her visor screen and she looked over to see him standing a foot from Saren, both engulfed in shots from the other.

“Wrex! Medigel!”

She shot at Saren to draw its attention while Wrex ducked behind a rock. The glowing red eyes turned to her as the corpse crawled her way with terrifying speed. She aimed carefully as she stepped backward, but just as she fired, it jumped to the ceiling, bombarding the surrounding area with beams of energy. Garrus fired from across the room and without hesitation the husk jumped across to him. Dez couldn’t tell if Saren was on fire or if it was merely the red glow of Sovereign possessing him. Blue electricity fought the Reaper’s red as Garrus overloaded the husk. Wrex and Shepard continued firing until suddenly the glow went dark, Saren fell to the floor, and the body disintegrated.

A groan came from above them as Sovereign itself began to fall. More gunfire from the ships surrounding it filled the air as Hackett’s voice encouraged the fleet. The trio climbed out of the pit beneath the Council chamber just in time to see the Reaper explode. The momentary surge of triumph was followed by panic as the falling debris grew closer and closer.

“Run!” Dez yelled. She heard the glass above them shatter before the world went silent.

-

She awoke with ringing in her ears. Fire—actual fire, not the blazing red glow that betrayed Sovereign’s presence—filled the Council chamber, as did pieces of Sovereign. The ringing subsided enough that she heard Captain Anderson’s voice muffled beneath the crackling fires.

“Where’s the commander?”

If anyone answered him, she could not hear the response. She sat up, taking inventory of her body. Minor wrist pain, ringing quieter but still present in her ears, but otherwise fine. She got to her feet and moved debris aside as she ran, crunching broken glass beneath her feet, through Reaper parts and broken ships to meet up with her team.

They turned at the sound of her footfall. Anderson looked relieved, smiling proudly as she jumped over debris to reach them. Wrex grinned, and she couldn’t hear it but was sure he let out a trademark chuckle. Her eyes lingered on Garrus. He looked mildly sick and unsteady on his feet. The only thing sure about him was the look he gave her, locking his eyes with hers as though she was a lifesaver he grabbed hold of as he floated adrift in the sea.

-

Dez swallowed hard as she rode the elevator down to the cargo bay. The problem with a task force was that completing the task meant she lost the force. She supposed she should be used to losing her comrades by now, but this one hurt more than most, and that caused her a slight pang of guilt. They were leaving, not dying; still, she felt she was losing something more this time, but could not put her finger on what.

The elevator door opened onto a much emptier cargo bay than usual. The Mako, destroyed in the Conduit, was absent, as was most of the gear not issued by the Alliance. Over by his usual console, Garrus carefully lay a sniper rifle into his trunk.

“Hey, Garrus,” she said as she approached.

“Dez,” he said, closing his trunk and standing up. “I wanted to thank you.”

She frowned slightly. “For what?”

“For—for everything.” His mandibles flared widely. “For taking me with you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” she grinned.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the floor. “Anyway, I, uh. I’m—I thought about what you said. I’m going back to C-Sec. I think I can do some good there.”

“I know you can,” she smiled warmly. “You’re a good man, Garrus.”

He lifted his head. She felt she shouldn’t be caught off-guard by the intense warm blue of his eyes anymore, but his gaze continued to arrest her. “If I am, it’s because of you.”

“Nah,” she waved dismissively. “You always had your heart in the right place. It’s just—people like us have to learn it’s not enough just to have good intentions. I had to learn it the hard way. I just didn’t want you to have to go through that, too.”

He nodded, looking down again, then back up. “Well. Thank you, again.” He extended a hand.

Dez snorted and opened her arms, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Garrus,” she said softly.

He squeezed her too tightly. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

-

The Normandy shook like a toy in a baby’s hand. Fires engulfed nearly every corner she could see. Alarms blaring, voices screaming and being abruptly silenced.

“Will the Alliance get here in time?” Ashley asked, all business and no apparent panic.

“They won’t abandon us,” Dez said, tossing Ashley a fire extinguisher before turning back to the distress beacon controls. “Get everyone to the escape pods, now!”

“Joker’s still in the cockpit. He won’t abandon ship.” Ashley paused. “I’m not leaving, either.”

Dez turned around. “I need you to get the crew to the escape pods. I’ll take care of Joker. Go!”

Ashley tried to protest once more, but an explosion silenced her and separated the two of them. “Go!” Dez commanded again.

“Aye-aye,” Ashley said glumly as she ran off in one direction and Dez ran in the other.

Dez ran through the ship, the raging fires cooking her in her armour as she desperately made her way to the cockpit. A hole had already been ripped out of the CIC, and it was almost peaceful; she looked up to see Alchera above the ship—or below? After the cacophony downstairs, the silence of space creeping through the hole in the roof fell heavy around her.

She approached Joker’s seat as quickly as her mag boots would let her. “Joker.” She spoke with compassion but no hint of request. “We have to go. Now.”

“No! I won’t abandon the Normandy.” Joker desperately worked through interfaces, as if anything he could do would replace the torn-off hull of the ship.

“Going down with the ship won’t save it,” she said sharply. “I need you to come with me, Joker.”

He sighed, dropping his hands from the interface. “Okay. Help me up.”

She helped him to his feet just as another broadside shook the ship. Together, they hobbled to the nearest escape pod, and Dez managed to lean Joker in just before another hit ripped them apart.

“Commander!” he yelled.

She grasped desperately at a broken corner of a wall and saw him through the beam of light separating them. The energy beam cut through the ship and she looked in horror at the disintegrating metal. She reached out toward Joker, knowing it was of no use. With another tremor of the ship, she lost her grip.

“SHEPARD!”

Joker’s scream sounded muffled. She scrambled for anything she could reach but to no avail. Her back hit a sharp titanium edge as an explosion pushed her away with a column of fire and smoke. The Normandy shrank beneath her as she floated into open space. As her oxygen hissed away, her vision went cloudy around the edges. She expected everything to turn to black, but instead it was blue: bright, warm, comforting blue.


	10. interlude: through the cemetery trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs are “One Headlight” The Wallflowers and “When They Come For Me” Linkin Park.

Facing down the end didn’t feel momentous or scary or weighty. It should, probably, but Garrus had felt numb for so long it didn’t surprise him that he felt nothing now.

That was a lie, though, and he knew it. He felt something. Something prevented him from putting his gun down and standing in plain view of the gangs of Omega and letting it all end right then, or from putting a bullet in his own head. He was going, but he was taking as much bad out of the world as he could with him. There was a time he would have rushed to sacrifice himself, thinking more of dying for what is right than securing protection for those who deserve and need it—a time before he realised the difference between what is honourable and what is just.

He could almost hate her. Not quite, but almost. The world was easier to navigate before she made him think about it. Now his head was full of strategy, of points B through Y and not just A and Z. He had thought it was easy to do the right thing, and Dez showed him it wasn’t. He wanted to hate her for it, but whenever he tried to, he saw her eyes, wide and dark and full of fire, and he fell again.

After the final fight with Saren, when the debris broke through the ceiling, he and Wrex believed for a moment that Dez had fallen beneath it. It was the thought of her loss that made him realise he was in love with her, and he felt like he’d been crushed beneath falling debris, too. Anderson asked him where she was, and his throat was full of rubble. The world was on fire and he no longer cared if the fire went out.

And then she got up. Standing on top of a piece of Sovereign’s corpse like a triumphant goddess of war, fire behind her and emanating from within her as she looked down at him. He felt so small before her, and his blood ran hot with shame. Who was he to presume to love someone like that? If he told her how he felt, she’d laugh at him, and he’d deserve it. She needed someone who could support her, not someone to whom she had to teach simple life lessons.

 _”I need…to lean on you,”_ her words echoed in his head, and he closed his eyes and pushed them away.

He left the Normandy full of hope, thinking that if nothing else, he could make a difference at C-Sec. He had changed, but C-Sec hadn’t. Even following procedure, carefully doing everything the right way, 9 times out of 10 the bad guy still went free. If anything, he felt he made less of a difference than before. He fought the same fights with his higher-ups, they gave him the same reprimands. Tense as a taut string, he went home, threw his things on the couch, and turned on the news to see the Normandy in flames.

At night he heard her breathing next to him, panting as after a 'stress relief' session. He tossed and turned and reached for but couldn’t find her. His days were a blur of frustration and sleep-deprivation. He didn’t wait to hear if there would be a funeral; he couldn’t pull himself together enough to go, anyway. He could say that he went to Omega out of a sense of justice, to right the greatest wrongs it was in his power to right, to protect those who needed help the most and had the fewest people to fight for them. But he went to die. To go out in a blaze of glory.

To see her again.

Knowing he didn’t deserve her in life or death, knowing there was no happy ending waiting for them in another world. There was nothing left for him in a world without her, so he figured he’d go where she was, even if all he could do was see her. It would be enough.

She couldn’t be proud of him for this. Perhaps a last attempt at the appearance of nobility, he assembled a team to help him fight crime on Omega. In his head, they were the new crew of the Normandy and he the new Shepard. But he realised too late that they were more akin to Dez’s squad on Torfan, giving their lives for his stupid, selfish mistake. He hadn’t learned anything after all; he made no difference, he brought no justice—only death to innocents and a bigger mess to clean up by himself.

The faces whispering his name surrounded him day and night. Every now and then, one of them was hers. The way she said his name was different, more yearning than accusing, which is how he knew he was imagining it. He carved his squad’s names into his visor, partially out of respect for the dead, partially as a reminder of why he was a disappointment to her. He carved her name there, too. Smaller.

He looked down the scope of his rifle at the Blood Pack mercenaries grouping on the other side of the bridge. Slumping down beneath the window, he picked up the half-empty beer bottle on the floor and drained it. He tossed the empty bottle and it clinked into a pile of other bottles he didn’t remember drinking. He felt spectacularly pointless, as empty as the husk Saren was at the end. He never even celebrated Saren’s defeat. He nearly forgot it happened. After all that noise, Saren was nothing at the end, and now, so was Garrus.

As welcome as he thought death would be, he couldn’t make himself give up entirely. He told himself he had given up long ago, yet here he was. Still trying, despite himself. Some faint beat of hope drummed softly somewhere within him. He didn’t know what this glimmer of hope was for, or what good could possibly come to him now. But it was there, nonetheless.

He reloaded his gun with a sigh.

_’Garrus.’_

He wasn’t sure if she was calling him, or warning him, or merely echoing in his memory. Perhaps she was kept alive in some way as long as he remembered her. Perhaps she kept him here on purpose. Perhaps she wasn’t there at all.

“Hold on,” he said aloud to the empty room, lining up another shot through the window. “I’m coming.”


End file.
